Alanza: Sequel to Backslide: Part I
by Pixel-0
Summary: Part I: And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
1. Life was Sweet

I gunned the engine of my bike, pulling back just enough so I could balance on one wheel while I whipped down the street. A couple of the neighbors started yelling at what a racket I was making so early in the morning. Laughing, I tapped the gas pedal again, and the engine screamed-along with every single living thing in that vicinity. It was all such sweet blissfulness.

Hurtling down the street, now deserted at such a late, or should I say early, hour in the morning, I was having the time of my life. Yet, if I wasn't careful, the cops were going to most definitely be after me. Damn them…can't a girl have fun?

Eventually, I slowed down to park my bike near the bay. I could barely see the sun peeking over the midnight waters. A couple fat gulls had settled on the rotting wood that jutted out from beneath the water. There wasn't another soul for miles perhaps. 

I swung my leg over the seat of my bike and wheeled it down to the water's edge. The water today was actually fairly clean. Recently, the government had been trying to clean it up. Note the key word: trying. Yet, the water, I had to admit, was indeed looking better. The usual film of green and red crap was starting to drift away. 

I sat down on the beach and tucked my legs to my chest, staring at the never-ending water. My mom and I had come to this same beach only a day before. She had told me that we were going away for awhile. How long, she didn't know. 

When I was little, we used to walk down to the beach together every day-despite the nasty pollution. She'd always point out to the water, to a shore that I couldn't see. "You see that?" she'd ask me. 

I, of course, couldn't see what she was talking about and would shake my little head, confused as to what she was trying to get at. She'd smile, not angry, but understanding. "Someday," she told me, "we're going to go there." 

"Why mommy?" I asked her.

"Somebody lives there."

"Who?" I asked in my childish tongue. She wouldn't answer me, which irritated me for sometime, but I figured that I would find out eventually.

So, she finally tells me after Lord knows how many years that we're going to that place across the water. She even said we might be living there. My God! As if I don't have a life. Give me a freaking break. 

I stood up and brushed the sand off the seat of my jeans. Although I really didn't need to sleep, I had to at least rest somewhat before heading off to the unknown tundra. I clambered back on my bike and started the engine, while still on a fairly sandy part. The diamonds of sand flew everywhere until the spinning wheel was able to grasp onto the ground and push the bike forward. 

The adrenaline in both me and the bike pumping, I flew over ditches, while not holding onto the safety of the handle bar, and basically, just kicked some major ass. Life was sweet.


	2. A Genetically Engineered Human

I arrived home in half the time it usually took me. Parking the bike in the public garage, I raked my fingers through my hair after I had removed my helmet. Couldn't go into the apartment looking like death warmed over. My glasses clicked shut as I shoved them in my coat pocket, and I opened the door. I tiptoed up through the hallway in case any neighbors would had heard me squealing the tires on the bike were ready to bash me over the head with a frying pan or something. 

I opened the door to the apartment ever so carefully. There was barely a sound. But, of course, I wasn't careful enough. "Where were you?" my mom asked, coming out of her bedroom. She was dressed in an old flannel robe. Her straight, short hair wasn't messed up, showing that she really hadn't been asleep. 

"I…was…out," I mumbled. I didn't like not talking to her. I mean, we usually had a really great relationship…well the best that could be hoped for between a mom and her teenage daughter. But, right then, it just wasn't the time. 

"Don't lie to me."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Uh-huh," she muttered with an eye roll. "Whatever, just get to bed, we gotta leave early tomorrow…today."

"Where are we going?" I asked her, laying my keys and cash on the counter as I emptied my pockets so they could go into the wash.

"Look, I'll tell you later," she said, turning away from me.

"Are we going someplace bad?" I yelped. "Why won't you tell me?" I think she started to ignore me at that point. Didn't matter much anyhow. 

I walked into my own room and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Plastered with cheap posters and lined with moss colored carpeting, my room was normal enough. I had friends, whose pictures also were smeared upon my walls. They were certainly normal. School was normal. The apartment was normal. Hell, nearly everything in my life was normal, with the exception of one major factor.

Me. 

The story of my life could go onto Oprah. Okay, maybe not Oprah, she's a little bit too calm for me. Jerry Springer, perhaps. I hadn't ever seen a new show, all the old reruns, but the show was amusing nonetheless. 

How should I describe a life, my life to be exact, that really never should've come into existence? I could easily make a long story short by saying one simple word about my life: mistake. 

In truth, I wasn't exactly a wanted child. My mom and dad were both in this weird experiment with this guy named Lydecker. His first name may have been Donald, but everybody just called him by his last name-Lydecker. My mom still does. 

Anyhow, he did some mumbo jumbo to my parents, combined their reproductive cells and guess who was formed? You'd think that would be the end. Whoopee, happy little family of freaks. Not quite. 

My mom and dad eventually escaped, but that's a story in itself. I was born sometime later. They left the city they were living in and moved here-California. Nice place, if you ask me. 

Anyhow, my parents were both "freaks" to begin with, (and I mean that in a tactfully nice way). So, what happens when you cross two freaks? Their kid is a gigantic freak. 

This is where I come into the picture. 

I'm not normal in any way, shape or form. My parents have their own abilities, like seeing things at a far distance, levitating themselves for some distance, being really good at fighting…stuff like that. And then there's me. 

Sure, I can do all the things they do. It's a simple shrug for me. If the normal human population were Barbie dolls, then my parents were G.I. Joe in that world. And I was G.I. Joe with his super deluxe action packed features. 

My abilities? Let's just say they even happen to scare me sometimes. I'm not especially proud of the things I can do. For starters, I can fly. Not exceedingly great distances, perhaps at the very most, a mile. And even then, that's _really _pushing it, because it leaves me tired and dragged down. 

The first time I flew, my dad was standing right there and he turned his back for a second…and whoosh! I was history. He and Mom had to grab her bike and hurry down the street after me. At that time I didn't know how to stop. Still, when I finally fell, yes fell, down on the ground, my mom was close to tears and my dad looked…well…scared. For who? I still don't know. 

Yet, the flying is just the tip of 'berg, so to say. I can weakly read people's minds. I learned that when people think, they send out little heat pulses. After much practice with my mom, I soon learned what each heat pulse stood for. Personally, it's not the most efficient way to figure out what someone is thinking, but it does the job of getting the basic summary. 

My mom has figured out how to block her thoughts from me. My dad, on the other hand, hasn't. It's amazing what a girl can learn. 

Personally, though, trying to read those heat pulses, is just plain boring and way too time-consuming. I only do it when I'm either really bored or have a good excuse, (mostly to see what a person thinks about me-naughty, naughty, I know). 

I can run super-fast. It's basically like-you see me, you don't see me. That also comes from having very quick reflexes. Some people could call it telekinetic because I can move so fast that it appears that I haven't moved at all. Truthfully, I've scared this old lady once so bad she had to go the hospital. Seriously.

But with the good genes, came the majorly screwed up ones. My parents, both having feline DNA, also passed some of that onto me. Not to mention the fact that this Lydecker guy added more when I was only a blob of cells. Unfortunately, instead of reacting in a good way like it had with my parents, I got way too much of that DNA. Every morning, I have to shave off my entire body or else by noon, I'll start growing fuzz. In about a week, without any shaving, I have a full-blown cat coat. Not attractive-especially on a human. It's a pain in the rear, really, it is. Yet, there's nothing I can do.

I have seizures too. Although they're not as common as my parents', they're just a lot worse. If I'm lucky, I'll only have about two or three a year. But, when I get them…ouch. I'll sit there and convulse for hours at a time. Nothing can help me. And when the seizures finally do end, all I want to do is sleep from pure exhaustion. 

So eighteen years later, here I am. All in all, though, I was probably as happy as a genetically engineered human with two genetically engineered parents could be. 


	3. Seattle, Alanza. Seattle

Although I didn't realize it, I had fallen asleep during my brief trip down Memory Lane. My mom was rubbing my shoulders and whispering to me. "C'mon," she said, "we gotta get going if we want to make it by evening."

"Huh?" I asked, rubbing sleep out of my eyes and stretching. 

"Get dressed in some appropriate traveling clothes and throw something in your container on the back of your bike. Some clothes, toothbrush, pictures…whatever…" she paused and looked at me. "Just grab some stuff."

I stood up and crossed my arms. "We're not coming back?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Mom shook her head. "No, probably not. At least not for awhile." I snorted angrily to myself as she left to continue her own packing. 

I pulled on a pair of black windbreaker pants, a red T-shirt, sporting the name of my favorite band that my friend and I had seen together, and my stretched out tennis shoes. Then, I tossed on my navy jacket and pulled out the container that hooked onto the back of my bike from under my bed. 

Truthfully, I really didn't know what I was throwing in that container. Whatever was in reach went into the case. In the end, I had to sit on top of it to close it. After much cursing, the lid clicked shut. I hauled it out to the kitchen area where my mom was sipping at a mug of coffee. I hoped it was decaf. Mom was jumpy enough even without the caffeine. With it? Ouch.

She saw me approaching, lugging the suitcase like thing, and set her mug down on the cheap table. "Here, I'll take that," she offered.

"Nah, I can just throw it on the back of my own bike."

She shrugged. "Fine, suit yourself." 

I slung the container over my shoulder and proceeded to put in on my bike. As I was latching it down, Mom came out to the public garage with her own suitcase thing. 

Her bike was a lot older than mine, and I truthfully didn't see why she kept it. The only reason I could think of was that the bike could be sold as an antique for lots of money. But the bike was so beat up, I couldn't even see that as an effective reason.

My bike was sweet. Only a couple years old and one of the best a person could buy these day. Whereas Mom called her bike only the extension of her soul, I had to wonder if my bike _was_ my soul. 

We wheeled our bikes out of the garage together, unspeaking in the morning mist. It was going to be a beautiful day; I could easily see that. After putting our helmets on because Mom said it was going to be a long trip, she rechecked her luggage. 

"What about Dad?" I asked her.

"He knows where we're going, I told him before he left last month."

"So he can find us, then?"

"Yes," she replied, but unlike I had expected, she didn't offer our destination. 

"Alright," I said, placing one hand on my hip and balancing the bike with the other. "Can you puh-leeze tell me where the heck we are going? I really don't like riding around for miles to nowhere."

This time, my mom turned to look at me, resting one of her hands on the handle. "Seattle, Alanza. Seattle." And before I could ask any more pestering questions, she hopped on her bike, and began to zoom off, forcing me to follow her. 


	4. Change Anything

The trip took longer than I expected, despite the fact we only took one stop for bathroom break. By the time we got to the place that Mom deemed, "Seattle", my hands were shaking so bad from the vibrating of the engine, I thought I would go into another seizure.

Seattle looked like it used to be a big city. There were tons of huge, abandoned buildings. There were very few cars, mostly cheap bikes that had been used one too many times over. The police were everywhere, just acting like a bunch of jerks. That was my opinion anyhow. The pulse had hit the city hard. People gathered around burning barrels, warming their hands despite the tepid temperatures. They were dressed in rags, most of them anyhow. Fortunately, Seattle looked like it was trying to rebuild after the pulse. Yet, it wasn't California. 

Mom turned down a small alley and parked her motorcycle along the side of a building. I slowed down and straddled the bike beside her as the engine died down. "Alright, _what_ are we doing here?" I asked, irritated.

"Can you just bear with me for a bit?" 

"Depends."

"C'mon, we just need to walk a couple blocks."

"Do we have a place to stay?" I questioned. "I don't want to live in a box, thank you very much."

"Yes, yes, my old place should still be available." 

"You used to live in Seattle?" Mom had always said she used to live in Washington, but she had never said exactly which city. Immediately, my brain began to whirl about the thousands of reasons we were coming back to the place where Mom had once lived. Interesting, interesting.

We walked down the street together. Okay, she led and I just followed. I would've been lost by myself. "City sure looks different," she muttered to herself.

"Really," I said unenthusiastically.

She shrugged and I hurried up to walk beside her. "Eighteen years will definitely change anything."

"Yeah, look at me," I said with a laugh. 

"Definitely you." 

We turned a corner and headed into a building that looked like it was ready to collapse. "Are you sure this is safe?" I asked as we hurried up the cracked and peeling stairs. I figured that one wrong move would send me plummeting through the stairs. Didn't want that to happen.

Mom laughed. "Like I said, 'eighteen years will definitely change anything'," she repeated.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "But that doesn't tell me if I'm going to become a human pancake." 

We arrived on the third floor, (I figured this from the sign that said, "third floor'). The walls were a creamy yellowish beige color. Bleh. All over the walls, there were graffiti drawings, handprints, and stains of all sorts. I didn't pause long enough to examine what the stains were from. Not that I really wanted to know anyhow. 

A couple people watched us as Mom and I walked together. Mostly older people with missing teeth and big bellies. They smiled at Mom, and she smiled back. Friends? Perhaps. I wasn't sure. 

Finally, we arrived at a door where Mom stopped and knocked on it. "Just a minute!" a voice cried from inside. 

Quickly, Mom ran her fingers through her hair and cracked her fingers. "How do I look?" she asked, turning to me.

"Fine, I guess. Why are you so worried-" I began, but at that moment the door flew open. 

"Who are you?" the black woman asked who answered the door. She had long curly hair that reminded me of the blob monster-ready to cover everything it touched. Wearing silver, glittery eyeshadow and a faint shade of silver lipstick, I grimaced. Lady, make-up is not your deal, I thought to myself. 

"It's me, Max," Mom said. The lady's eyes widened. 

"Max?! It is you!" They hugged, and I was left standing outside of the closeness, awkward in my unknowing of what exactly was occurring. My mom stepped back, and the lady turned to me for the first time.

"And who's this, boo?"

"This is my daughter, Alanza," my mom said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"Hi," I said, extending a hand, politely. The lady accepted my hand and shook it warmly.

"Nice to meetcha, Alanza. Call me Original Cindy." I nearly toppled over. This was Original Cindy of whom I had heard so much about? This was the Original Cindy that Mom would tell me tales about as bedtime stories? This was the lady who was Mom's best friend for most of her life? I couldn't believe it.

Mom was right-eighteen years sure could change anything.


	5. Grow Cat Hair

"Well, c'mon in. Sorry 'bout the mess. Original Cindy ain't cleaned up in awhile," she admitted, showing both Mom and I inside. 

"This was your apartment?" I whispered to Mom in disbelief. She nodded and approached Cindy, who was rapidly picking up all sorts of clothes. 

I lingered as Mom began to talk to Cindy and looked out the window. "Yes," Mom was saying, "this is the baby I left with." The baby. I didn't know if I should be happy that was referred to so casually, or angry. Didn't matter anyhow. The conversation continued in the background as I rested against the chipped wall, staring down at the ground through the streaked window.

Below, people walked and talked amongst themselves, keeping busy and going on with their daily lives. They had normal lives, truly normal lives, for they were truly normal people. What I would have given to be them just for one day! Not having to worry about the annoying things that came along with my genetics. Never having to glance over my shoulder to see if someone was after me-not that it truly would've mattered, for I could have kicked anybody's ass if provoked. 

I sighed to myself and crossed my arms over my T-shirt. Could they see me from so far below? Could they see the girl staring at them from above? The girl with the brown hair with golden streaks, piercing green eyes accompanied by rosy cheeks and always pouting lips? Did they see the height I displayed at close to six feet tall? No, they never could and never would. The thought sadden me slightly that I looked so much like them, but would never be one of them. 

Mom tapping me gently on the shoulder interrupted my thoughts. "Alanza," she said in a low undertone, "you should probably shave." I felt myself burn with embarrassment of having to explain to Cindy that I needed to shave. No, not my legs or my armpits or even my freaking bikini line. No, just my entire body.

"But…uh…" I stuttered.

"She knows," Mom told me as Cindy busied herself preparing what looked like to be some leftover casserole. I paused, and stared at Cindy, getting into the girl's mind. I turned back to Mom, having a good summary of what Cindy was thinking.

"Yeah? And she thinks I'm a freak." Mom muttered that I should head to the bathroom, saying that there should be a razor in there. 

I walked slowly into the bathroom. There was a single tub with a few cupboards and a sink. All of the things were aged and close to collapsing. I wondered how much longer I could live in the apartment without having it come crashing down on me. 

Sure enough, there was a pink razor lying on the corner of the bathtub. Yuck, yuck, yuck, I thought as I rinsed it off. Mental note to self: remember to buy a pack of razors before leaving on a trip. 

Quickly, I whizzed the razor along the surface of my skin. Indeed, a light fuzz, much like the kind along the very bottom of your hairline, but not as long, had grown on my lightly tanned skin. 

I laughed quietly to myself, remembering the time when Mom had first explained to me why I was the way I was. It had happened at school because Mom and Dad both believed that I needed to be educated, and they figured that since I didn't have a barcode, Lydecker wasn't going to spot me. Still, at the lunch table in, oh, it must've been fifth or sixth grade, something like that, my friends were talking about shaving and stuff. Why? Who knows, shaving was more or less something that just pushed us further into that realm that our moms inhabited. 

Anyhow, one of my friends was saying that she had just started shaving. Everyone was rather, shall I say, impressed? I wanted to get some of that attention so I said that I had been shaving for as long as I could remember. Needless to say, I got much more than some weird looks. 

Coming home in tears, Mom had to explain as much as my little mind could handle at that time. We switched school districts that very day for fear that Lydecker was going to start snooping about. 

Were my parents paranoid? Perhaps, but then, I've never met Lydecker, so I can't tell you if they needed to be. 

I finished shaving quickly and tossed the razor in the trash and got dressed. Sigh. And how many other people had to shave close to their entire body because they grow cat hair? 

None. 


	6. Im James

I exited the bathroom, trying not to be too noticeable and found Mom talking with Original Cindy. "Hey, boo, want some dinna?" Original Cindy asked me, waving what appeared to be tuna noodle casserole on a plate. 

"I…uh…no thanks," I stammered. "I'm not that hungry." I then turned to Mom. "Can I go out and check out the city?"

She shrugged. "No problem. Just don't get lost. You know where the apartment's at-right?" 

"Mmm-hmm," I replied. "I'll be back before midnight, if that's ok."

"Yeah, or else I'll send the cops after you," she joked. 

"Goody," I said with sarcastic glee and hurried out of the apartment. Bounding down the stairs, three at a time, I really didn't care anymore if they decided to crash underneath me. 

Fortunately, my bike was parked where Mom and I had left it. I raked my fingers through my hair before shoving on the helmet. It was time to party.

The city, with the sun dying down in the far sky, was just starting to come alive. It was a beautiful city, despite the wretched things it held. Still, I missed California. The pounding surf, the endless boardwalks, the palm trees…everything. Yet, it wasn't time to go all sentimental right then and there. I gunned the engine of my bike until I balanced on one back tire and continued. 

Buildings whizzed by, and I didn't even bother to read the signs they held. If I had to go somewhere, I'd know it. Besides, I wasn't even sure where I wanted to go. Seattle was a big city, though; I was bound to find _something_. 

Finally, on the other side of town, after close to twenty minutes of riding, I found a tiny place. It wasn't extremely fancy, but it wasn't run-down like many of the other buildings in the area. 

I pulled my bike up on the curb and examined the place, deciding if I really wanted to enter or not. It was a dance club, and I could hear the music from where I stood outside. Whether it was just me and my ridiculous genetics again, or the music really was loud, I didn't know. But, the fact remained that I liked what I heard. 

Pulling off my helmet, I shook my head, ruffling my hair in the quickly cooling night air. I could feel the vibes already. This city was alive. Maybe Seattle wouldn't suck as bad as I thought it would. I shoved the keys in my jean pocket and headed inside. 

The inside of the building was thick with cigarette smoke and voices. An old CD player boomed the sound of oldies. Although it wasn't exactly my type of music, it had a good beat, and I liked it. Off to the side, some people had pushed aside tables and chairs to clear a dance floor. Already, there were a few couples and singles dancing, writhing to the beat. 

I smiled and headed over to the bar, wondering if I could trick the bartender into believing that I really was twenty-one, not just eighteen. Having done it before, I hoped it would work again. Throwing one leg over the peeling stool, I sat down comfortably on it and waited for the bartender to wait on me.

"What'll it be?" he asked through puffed eyes. I was twenty-one to him and that's all that mattered.

I bit on my lip thoughtfully. "Just beer, please," I replied, stupidly not remembering any other alcoholic beverages at the time. Besides, the ones I did remember were far too expensive. The bartender sighed, but headed around to the back to get it. As he was getting my drink, I glanced about the room, admiring the many people. Everyone appeared to be happy, if even they were poor. Perhaps it was just the effect of the alcohol, but people were happy nonetheless. 

"Here ya go," the bartender said, setting my drink down in front of me. 

"Thanks," I smiled. I sipped gingerly at my drink. It was bitter, but most alcoholic drinks were. As I was sitting there, sipping away, I didn't notice a man who had sat down beside me. It wasn't until he had received his drink, that I fully noticed him. 

"Hello," I said.

"Hi," he smiled back, revealing perfectly formed teeth. 

I removed my clammy hand from the side of my glass cup and wiped it on my pants before offering it to him. "Alanza," I told him. Having no friends in Seattle my own age, I figured it was time to start making some. Starting then.

"Alanza?" he repeated curiously. "It's pretty."

"Thanks."

He accepted my hand and shook it warmly. "I'm James."


	7. Better Than I Thought

The guy was sexy. There really wasn't any other way to describe him besides to say he was a beautiful human. He had dark brown hair, kind of like my mom's when she was younger. The hair was piled on top of his head in slight curls, waves almost, just so there was enough texture to his hair. His eyes, a warm coffee brown, were above his perfectly sculpted nose on light skin. He was built, and from the short sleeved shirt he wore, I could see the roundness of his upper arms. 

I rested my head on my clasped hands and stared evenly at him, trying to invade his mind while keeping a normal conversation and not spacing out. "So how long have you lived in Seattle?" I asked him.

"Two days."

"Two days? You visiting or something?"

"I wish, but no. I'm here with my dad."

"Family problems?" I questioned upon hearing the disgust in his voice as he talked about his dad.

"Yeah, me and my dad…we don't get along too well. I used to live out with my mom in Wisconsin and then moved out of the house when I got old enough. But my dad just calls one day out of the blue, and it's like he suddenly wants to be a parent."

"That's kinda how my family worked."

"Really?"

"Well, after I turned fifteen, my dad basically left. I mean, he's been back a couple times in those three years, but not much," I replied with a shrug.

"At least he stayed around for some of your life." 

"Why don't you just go back to Wisconsin?"

James grinned almost sheepishly. "I don't have the money or the transportation. I'm job searching actually right now."

"You're going to work here?" I questioned, motioning to the bar.

He laughed. "No, my parents would both kill me. They think I need a 'respectable job that promotes the well-being of a studious mind'." He laughed again, "Yeah right." Pausing to sip his drink, he turned to me. "So how long have you been here?"

"Since this morning," I answered with a laugh. "So, you're better off than I am." 

"Parents?" he questioned as my reason for coming to Seattle.

"Mm-hmm," I replied as I drank a bit of my drink. Pausing, I listened as a good song came on the radio. It was an oldie, like the others had been, but it was fairly fast paced and made something inside of me dance.

I set my drink down on the bar. "You wanna go dance?" I asked James.

"Uh…no thanks, I'm not really one for dancing," he admitted reluctantly. 

I shrugged. "You can join me if you want." With a smile back at him, I headed out onto the tiny dance floor. I wasn't going to let some guy I had just met burst my party bubble. 

The music was throbbing, and I could feel the bass beating through the soles of my tennis shoes. Before I knew it, I had lost myself in the rhythm and beat, pleased with life temporarily. Just as I swung myself around, my flexible body bending into any position I pleased, a warm hand touched me on the shoulder. 

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at James. "Invitation accepted," he said politely. I grinned and grabbed him by the wrists, pulling him onto the dance floor. Maybe life in Seattle was better than I thought it was going to be.


	8. Quivering with Fear

We danced almost all night long. Despite what he had said earlier, James really was a rather good dancer. I found out that he just didn't like bragging about his achievements and stuff. At first, I wasn't able to get him to say anything-he wasn't the type of person to just start pouring their feelings out. But, with a little prodding, I got to know more about him. 

Apparently, his parents were never even married. They dated for a bit before his mom got pregnant. When his dad didn't want the responsibility, his mom split and headed back to her family in Wisconsin. James grew up there and was happy enough, but when his dad requested for James to see him in Seattle, James reluctantly agreed. He had seen his father only once since he arrived in the city. They weren't the best of friends, but at least avoided killing each other.

I was able to easily relate to James. Without spilling my entire guts about Lydecker and my messed up past, I let him know that my dad hadn't exactly been the most supportive either. It was surprising, really it was. Surprising that is, to find a real human, a truly normal human, that is, who had the same problems that a genetically engineered killing machine had as well. I would've told him so, but then, I would've had to kill him. Some secrets are better off that way. 

James left sometime later after we promised to meet the next night at the same time. He was a great guy. And, perhaps, he would become more than a friend. It was a lot to hope for, it really was, but I tried to be optimistic. 

As I grabbed my coat off the stool I had been sitting at and paid the bartender, a lady passed by me. I blinked, shaking my head as a strange vibe passed through me. It was like the feeling when you know someone's behind you even though you can't see them. I had only felt the vibe before around my parents. Eventually, I learned to recognize and ignore it. But, with a stranger displaying this feeling, I had to question it. 

"Hey!" I called and hurried after her. She stopped and turned around, slightly annoyed with being called at by a stranger. 

"Yeah?" she replied, cocking her head slightly. I didn't know what to say that wouldn't make me look like a complete idiot. But, the feeling I received from her was so overwhelming that I could risk looking stupid.

"What's your name?" I asked her. 

Immediately, she tensed, I noticed. She would've bashed my head in had I made the wrong move or said the wrong thing. I, of course, wasn't worried. There wasn't a human in the world that could beat me. My mom and dad came close, but they still fell short. "Why do you want to know?" she questioned, her eyes glancing nervously around the room. 

"You look familiar," I lied.

She regarded me suspiciously, but shrugged nonetheless. Something inside of her told her that I wasn't out to kill her. As much as I tried to, I was unable to reach inside her mind, for reasons I didn't know. 

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, I do. Perhaps we really have met before," I lied again. I knew damn well we had never met, but if she caught my pathetic lie, she didn't show it. 

Her clothes were rather worn, like she had gotten them from a second hand store. There were small moth holes, and the pants had an orange stain of some kind down the thigh. She reminded me slightly of a bag lady in her cheap clothing that was dirty and stained. Her life had been hard. The shoes on her feet were worn as well, showing that she had walked for many miles without stopping. She was a strong person, and I recognized it.

Her face was aged slightly, pained almost, like she had spent most of her life crying over some tragedy she couldn't escape. She had dark, ragged hair that fell down to her shoulders. I would've estimated that she was about my mom's aged, older, most likely. One of her almond shaped eyes twitched nervously as she contemplated whether to answer me or push me away. She turned away and glanced at the door, ready to leave, perhaps. Extending a trembling hand, she smiled faintly, like I was the first person who had ever cared about her. I accepted her cold hand and shook it. 

"What's your name then?" I asked with a smile, trying to ease her into talking.

She paused and licked her lips before meeting me with haunting eyes. I nearly gasped out loud upon gazing into the bottomless pits she had for eyes. Something truly awful had happened to this girl, and she would never be able to escape. 

She answered with a voice hoarse and raspy, quivering with fear too. "Brin."


	9. Part of Manticore

I stared at her, trying to search for meaning in that one word she had uttered. People always mean so much more than they actually say…or so I've found. Yet, I was unable to find any sort of message behind her name. She still was giving off that odd sense. I just couldn't, as hard as I tried, put my finger on it and identify it. 

Her name was one that I had never heard before. If I had, I surely would've remembered it. My lie of remembering her was getting more pathetic and unreal by the second. I had to come up with some other excuse that would get her to stay. 

Fortunately, she lowered her guard just enough so I could slip into her mind. In a flash, I had easily caught enough snippets of her thoughts to ask her questions without looking like the real freak I was. 

"I have to get going," she said slowly and began to turn, walking towards the door. I hurried up to her and gently grabbed her upper forearm. 

"Please, may I talk to you?" I asked.

"It's getting dark out and I have to get home."

"I can give you a ride. My bike's right out there," I replied, motioning towards the door. 

"Look," she sighed. "I really don't know who you are, and you don't know me. We haven't met before, I know we haven't. I don't want to trouble you. It's too far out of your way to drive me home."

"No, it's not. I really do want to talk to you anyhow."

Brin, if that really was her name, brushed a dirty strand of hair behind her ear. "What about?" 

"Let's sit down first," I offered. Standing was so uncomfortable and it just caused people to stare at you more than necessary. Reluctantly, she followed me over to the bar where we both plopped down on the stools. I noticed that she moved with some stiffness, and I made a mental note to ask about that as well. 

"Alright," she said to me. "What's your name, first of all?"

"Alanza."

"Alanza…" she murmured. "'Ready for battle', I believe."

"You know that? Not many people do know what my name means."

She smiled slightly. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people, either." It was her first slip-up, and I immediately caught it. The wheels inside my skull were moving so fast as I contemplated everything at once. 

I rested my arm on the bar and laid my head on my hand, staring up at her. "What can you tell me about a thing called Manticore?" It was far too direct of question, but I had to risk it. If she was truly who I believed her to be, time was precious. Besides, I wasn't even sure what Manticore was. Mom had mentioned it a couple of times, but had never fully explained it. Brin had thought it, and reading her thoughts, I caught on. Now, I could only hope I was asking the right question.

Brin froze and looked away, nervous and panicky suddenly. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.

"I'm not going to tell anybody. Seriously, you can trust me."

"I don't know why you want to know about Manticore, but it's dead. Long dead." She rose, grabbing her thin coat off the stool beside her. "Everything about it is dead." She hurried away, leaving me to stand and gawk for a moment before I caught up to her outside, grabbing my coat as well.

The night air was starting to get chilly and I shivered, but kept my mind focused on Brin. I ran up to her and stood in front of her, staring straight at this lady who had to be twice my age. "Why's Manticore dead?" I asked, not wanting to suck it out of her mind like a thief. She was panicky. With the little heat pulses moved at far too fast of pace, it's like expecting to catch a minnow in the Atlantic Ocean with your bare hands. Not easy, my friend, not easy.

She looked away, but answered me nonetheless. Perhaps she believed if she gave me the information needed, then I would go away. "Nothing from Manticore is around anymore. Everything and everybody that was a part of it is gone. Dead and gone. There's like only one or two people left from it."

"Like you?" I asked.

She flinched, but nodded mutely. "There, you know, so please go, now." Slowly, she began to walk away, the cold wind whipping through her. Something inside of me was hurt all of a sudden as I watched the once strong warrior nearly limp across the street. She was part of Manticore, even though my mom had never told me. 

"Not everyone's gone!" I cried out, praying she would hear me. "Zack! Max! They're both still alive and part of Manticore…and so am I!" 


	10. Dont Lie to Me

Brin froze abruptly in the middle of the deserted street and walked slowly towards me. "What did you say?" she whispered once she was close enough.

"Zack, Max, they're both still alive, that is, if you know who they are."

"Yes, yes, I do know them," she said with a smile, and I saw tears begin to form in her distant eyes. "But what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, didn't you just say you're part of Manticore? How?" 

"I'm the daughter of Max and Zack."

"You can't be."

"I am, no one else."

"Oh…my…" Brin whispered and brought a trembling hand to her mouth. "You don't know how long I have been alone like this and suddenly…you… and…this."

"Would you like to see my mom?"

"Your mom?" she asked, not thinking clearly.

"Max."

"Please, yes, please." 

We walked to my motorcycle, where I let her use my helmet. She hopped on behind me and wrapped her arms about my waist, since I had no back passenger seat belts. I was shocked at how delicate her frame was-she was so skinny that it worried me. 

I drove quickly in the night, but not out of control. The last thing I needed was to send me flying off the bike and split my head open. Not pretty. And, if Brin was who she claimed to be, she couldn't die either. A pity that I had to be careful for once. I really was looking forward to trying out some jumps I had seen coming to the bar. 

It didn't take me long to find the apartment, for I easily remembered the directions when I had left it. All in the genes of course, the ability to recall things so clearly. Sigh. Yet another part of my messed up body that haunted me daily. 

We arrived at the apartment sooner than I had anticipated, and Brin hopped off slowly, gazing up at the building. "This is it?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, taking the helmet from her. "C'mon, it's the third floor." She followed me into the building, as we both tried not to make a sound at such a late hour. Screaming neighbors wasn't something that I especially enjoyed. And, considering I didn't even know the neighbors made the possibility of getting yelled at worse. 

Surprisingly, the door to the apartment was unlocked and I opened it. Brin stood behind me, watching carefully. Yet, as soon as I stepped into the room, a light flicked on as if remote controlled. Mom came out of what must've been her bedroom, hands on hips. "Where have you been? It's nearly two a.m. and you said you'd be back by midnight-"

"Mom?" I interrupted, trying to prevent myself from looking like a disrespectful teenager in front of Brin. 

"What?" 

"There's someone here to see you."

"Not now, Alanza. It's late."

"You want to, I know it, just please."

Mom sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine." I turned away from her and poked my head out into the hallway where Brin was waiting. Telling her she could come in, I closed the door behind her as she entered the illuminated room. 

For a second, I thought that there would be joyous cries like the kind between Mom and Original Cindy when they had reunited. But there wasn't. 

"Who's this?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mom, this is Brin."

"Brin?" I nodded as Brin stood there, her arms dangling at her side as she stared evenly back at Mom. 

Mom shook her head, like she was denying something. "I don't know what kind of game you're trying to pull her, Alanza. But, it's not funny. This isn't Brin, so don't lie to me like this." 


	11. Stopwatch on Her Life

My eyes widened. "What the hell do you mean?" I nearly screamed. Immediately, my face burned after having swore to my mom, and I would've turned away, embarrassed. But I didn't. I couldn't. Wasn't Mom able to sense the feeling I received from Brin? Couldn't she feel it? 

"Alanza…" Mom began, in her warning tone that I was going to get it if I wasn't careful. 

"Max," Brin said finally, stepping forward towards Mom. Amazingly, Mom flinched upon hearing her name uttered, but said nothing. "It's me, Brin, no one else. Why do you doubt me?"

"Brin died…a long time ago," Mom replied and turned, walking behind the counter as she ran her finger along the edging of it. 

"Who told you she was dead?" Brin asked.

"A friend."

"Zack?" I watched carefully, walking over to the couch so I wouldn't be in the way and get forcefully removed from the conversation. I had never seen Mom so uncomfortable before. It was actually kind of comical…in a weird sort of way.

Mom nodded in response to Brin's question. 

"He didn't know what he was talking about. Perhaps Lydecker still had his hold on him." Brin shook her head and stepped closer to Mom, with only the counter separating them. "Look at me, Max, please. Tell me I'm not who I say I am."

Their eyes met and my mom sucked in her breath very quickly, then looked away. I knew instantly that she knew too. Knew the truth behind it. Now, all I needed know was what the heck was going on between them. More correctly put: what _had_ gone on. 

"You couldn't have survived the fire," Mom reasoned. "It was far too big and dangerous and…no, it's not possible." 

"I was outside on the far side of the building, away from the initial beginning of the fire at the time. When it first started, I wasn't sure what to think. I suffered second and third degree burns pretty badly, but I managed to live. Long story. Let's not go there with all the technicalities and stuff."

"But the Protega?" 

Brin smiled faintly. "I won't ever escape that, no." 

"How come you're still alive now?" Mom questioned as she mentally processed the information Brin was feeding her. 

"Apparently, Lydecker had done more work, not just to treat the defective gene, but to cure it once and for all. I didn't know that he had done this," Brin shrugged. "I just assumed it was normal treatments. But, in reality it was the process of curing the gene. He never would've told me, of course. That would've meant that I could live outside the walls of Manticore. And, he wouldn't have wanted that." 

"Yet, what do you mean, 'you can't escape it'?" 

"Do you remember the HIV epidemic a couple years back?" Mom nodded. 

I remembered it too. People were so weak and sick it wasn't funny. The streets became graves as the people died one by one. Not pretty. And yet, nobody really knew how people were getting it because of the risks you have to take to get the virus. Apparently, it was eventually traced to some doctors who worked together in some odd cult like organization. They decided to get even with the world before committing suicide. Every one of their patients was injected with their contaminated blood. Life wasn't pretty. 

"Well," Brin continued. "This disease is like HIV…kinda…not exactly, of course. You see, like HIV, the disease I have also is taking years to fully erupt. Lydecker may have thought he fully cured me, but he didn't. Only partially. The effect rate is slowed down, a lot, which is a good thing. But, it still is there, still affecting me. Does it make sense?"

"I guess…," Mom said, her voice trailing off as she realized that Brin had basically told her that she was going to die. I mean, everybody knows they are going to die eventually, but Brin had just put a stopwatch on her life.


	12. Just Start Talkin

There was a long pause before anybody said anything. Eventually Brin shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. "Well…I'd better get going…it's late and all…y'know." She turned and began to walk towards the door. 

That's when Mom stepped in, snapping out of her drugged up state of mind. "You can't leave now, please, Brin, stay." 

"Why?"

"I have so many things to ask you."

"Then ask." 

"Will you stay the night? Where do you live?"

"It doesn't matter where I live, but," she sighed, "I'll stay as long as you want me to." 

"Then let's talk," Mom said to her, and the two ladies walked over to the counter and sat down on the stools. I watched, rather perplexed from my perch on the arm of the couch. With my knees tucked up to my chin and hands resting upon them, I looked like a medieval gargoyle.

Mom began to pull out some coffee mugs and mix up what look like to be tea. Tea. Bleh. Not something I prefer to sit down and drink. Give me my hot chocolate, baby. 

Nobody talked as Mom mixed the tea up and handed the steaming cup to Brin, and sat down across the counter, rubbing the ceramic mug in her hand. Brin sipped boredly at her drink, glanced away, then rested her eyes on Mom. "Well, Max, are you going to ask or not?" she asked with an almost teasing smile. 

"Alright," Mom began, letting her finger trail around the handle of the cream colored cup. She swallowed nervously before beginning. I, of course, leaned closer so I could hear and this would start to make sense to me. "After the fire…did you ever…do you know…," she sighed deeply. Obviously what she was attempting to ask was hard for her. "Do you know if anyone else survived?"

Brin raised her eyebrows in surprise and then let them slowly sink back down. "Ah, that's right, you thought everyone was dead." 

"You mean they aren't?" 

"I didn't say that, did I? Here's what I do know, I told your daughter," she glanced over at me and then back to Mom. "I told her that there were only one or two surviving from Manticore. One, of course, being me."

"And Lydecker," Mom sighed bitterly, realizing her hopes for another person to survive had failed. 

"Lydecker? He's still alive?"

"He survived the fire. Whether he's still around is beyond me, he's so old, he's probably dead," Mom stated.

"I doubt it. If he survived that fire, not a whole lot is going to kill him."

"He had help," Mom replied softly. 

"Really?" Brin asked with a cocked eyebrow. "From who?" 

"Me." I nearly fell off the edge of the couch. For years all I had been hearing that Lydecker was this evil guy, this spawn of Satan, the devil himself, and now I find out that she saved him?! Wonders never cease.

Brin sipped at her drink, seemingly not affected by what Mom had said. "Fair enough. I don't know if I could've just let him die like that either. Fire isn't a pretty way to die. Yet," she sighed. "As I was saying, the only person I know that is still around from Manticore is Jace." 

"Oh." 

"You knew," Brin stated.

"Yeah, I saw her before she left for Mexico. But that was eighteen years ago, still…" Mom's face had fallen again. "So you haven't seen any of the others?"

Brin shook her head. "No, and I've traveled from here to Mexico and back. I would think I would've seen someone during that time." 

"True." 

"As for me, because you probably want to know what I've been up to for the past twenty years or so, I really haven't done too much. Went to Mexico, like I said, sold shells cheap, made enough money to make it back up here." She shrugged. "For what reason, I'm not sure though, I'm just glad I came back and found you. Well, was found by you."

"Not me, Alanza." 

Brin grinned, a rare smile that creased every edge in her face. She hadn't smiled in awhile, it was obvious. "And your daughter. Looks like you did a good job with her. How's Zack, by the way?"

"Zack? Well, as usual, he's off to God knows where. He's been doing this since she was fifteen," Mom said with a nod of her head towards me. "He comes and goes as he pleases. Actually, I'm surprised that he stayed around for fifteen years." 

"So, did you ever get married, seeing how you have a child and all with him?" Brin asked with a slightly devious smile.

Mom slapped her playfully from across the counter. "You know it wasn't like that. No backseat involved, thank you very much. But," she said, becoming more serious, "no, we didn't get married. It just would've been too…I don't know…bizarre, I guess you could say."

Brin nodded, agreeing with her. She glanced up at the clock, which hung on the peeling wall. "It really is getting late, and I need to get home."

"Want me to give you a ride?" I offered, rising to my feet.

"No thanks, I'll be okay." Mom walked to the door with Brin and opened it for her. They paused, staring at each other before Mom hugged Brin fiercely. 

"It's been good to see you," Mom said. 

Brin patted her gently on the back. "I'm just glad I'm not alone anymore."

Releasing her friend, Mom stepped back and rested her hands on Brin's shoulders. "You know where to find me." Brin smiled, glad to be cared about. Slowly, she turned and left, shutting the door softly behind her. 

Mom lingered before turning to me, with hands stuffed in my jeans' pockets. "You probably got a lot of questions," she said to me. 

"That's an understatement." 

"What do you want to ask?" she questioned reluctantly.

"Just start talkin', just start talkin', Mom. It's time for a history lesson and you're the teacher."


	13. Bleeding Hallways

"As you know, I am not a normal human," Mom began. I was resting on the couch, sipping hot chocolate while Mom had pulled up a stool. Every now and then she would glance away before talking. Her mug of tea was cold, and she held it in between her shaking knees. Obviously, her history wasn't something she liked to talk about. 

She stared at me evenly. "What do you know?"

"Well, let's see," I replied. "I know that you and Dad were part of an experiment, but I don't know what kind. I really don't know who Lydecker is or what he has to do with you. And, I don't know what the experiment was that you were in, how old you were, or anything like that. I only know that Lydecker created me, messed with my genes a bit, and you guys escaped from him," I said, checking the points off on my fingers. I leaned forward on the couch, closer to Mom. "That's all." 

Mom sighed. "You really don't know that much, I guess."

"Guess not," I stated, trying not to be too snippy.

"Alright, then. Your dad, Zack, and I are not normal humans."

"Uh-huh…" I drawled.

"When our moms were teenagers, I guess, although I don't know for sure, they wanted to get rid of the children they were carrying. So, they were offered money to give up their children to this experiment. Here's where Lydecker comes in. He was the creator of this experiment. 

"What he was doing was making genetically engineered _killing machines_."

"Killing machines?" I interrupted.

"Just hold on, please," Mom replied. She ran a hand through her hair, letting it fall back down around her shoulders. "I grew up in a military like place, being trained to kill and fight. Lydecker was supposed to be our father because we didn't know our real ones. He wasn't. I could describe some of the stuff he made us do, but it doesn't matter anymore-does it?

"To get to the point, we weren't the first group of genetically engineered kids that Lydecker tried to produce. In fact, we were the fifth group. Called X-5, then the rest of our barcode was how the adults identified us. We made up names for ourselves. 

"When I was nine, we managed to escape, luckily. We all split up and lived our lives. Everything was fairly normal, with Lydecker coming around to try to capture us every once in awhile, no big deal, really.

"But, then, one day he managed to capture us. We were taken back to one of the few Manticore bases outside of Wyoming…actually this one was outside of Seattle."

"Manticore? What's that? Brin mentioned it, so I figured it was _something, _but what is it exactly?"

"The name of the experiment. The main part of it was in Wyoming."

"Oh." 

"Anyhow, he created you by combining the reproductive cells of obviously Zack and I. To make a long story short, the building eventually burned down, and I thought Zack and I were the only ones left. Turns out, we weren't."

"Brin," I said softly.

"Yes."

"Who were the others?" I asked, curious about these people Mom had never told me about. "What were they like?"

Mom smiled softly. "I remember Eva. She never managed to escape. The sweet girl, oh, god, she was so sweet, was shot by Lydecker."

"Shot?!" I nearly screamed.

Mom nodded slowly. "Yes, nothing out of the normal, but it still hurts."

"I'd imagine so." 

"I remember Tinga, Krit, Syl, Jhondi, Jace-who Brin was talking about down in Mexico-, Zane, Jack, Ben…" Mom's voice faded away and she cupped a hand over her trembling mouth, turning away from me. She rose to her feet and walked to the window.

"Mom? You okay?" I asked.

"I just remember them far too well. Much more than I should."

"They were like family, you just can't forget them."

"Sometimes I think it would be easier if I could." Mom turned back to me. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you couldn't have just had a normal life without all this bullshit haunting you."

"Haunting me?" I asked in disbelief. "I've never had anything out of the norm. _You're_ the one who's lived through it." 

"Still…" she said, her voice trailing off as she looked back out the window with the night sky backdrop. 

I rested my hand on her shoulder. "Mom, normal is so boring anyhow." 

After our pleasant little talk, Mom headed off to bed, despite the fact the sun was going to rise in only two or three hours. Not having a room, I prepared the couch Original Cindy had offered me earlier in the evening. Still dressed in my riding clothes, I lay down on top of the blankets I had set down. 

For once, I actually wanted sleep to come. To be taken away from this life. Mom was right, I didn't have a normal life, no matter how hard she and Dad would try to keep it that way. 

Sleep did come, eventually and I drifted away into dream world. Unfortunately, I dreamed of nothing but bleeding hallways where dead children screamed and a man named Lydecker killed them and their dreams.


	14. Careening Down the Streets

I awoke the next morning to the sound of clinking pans and something sizzling. At first, it didn't make sense that I was lying on a couch. But, when my sleepy mind finally broke through the sleep barrier, I remembered everything. 

Original Cindy was frying something in a pan. She looked up, freshly groomed, as I rose to my feet and stretched. "Mornin' boo. Ya hungry?" 

"Depends," I replied with a wry smile. "Whatcha got?"

"Just eggs and some toast."

"Eggs? Where'd you get those?"

She grinned, not wanting to reveal her secret. "Original Cindy gots her ways." 

"Well then, I'll have some."

A couple minutes later, I was sitting at the old wooden table, eating happily. Amazingly, the eggs were pretty good. I mean, at first I wasn't sure if Cindy could cook, judging just by her looks and everything, but now I realized she could've gone out for her own TV show. 

"Your mom up?" she asked me from across the table.

I shrugged, chewing on the cooked eggs. Then, I swallowed and replied, "I haven't seen her yet. Didn't you?"

"Yeah, my girl's still in her bed, sleeping like a baby." 

"Mom? Sleeping? Those are a couple of words I thought I'd never hear in the same sentence."

Cindy laughed as she stabbed another forkful of eggs. "There are surprises ev'ryday," she replied, shoving the eggs into her mouth. We lapsed back into rather uncomfortable silence, not sure what to say to one another. The only thing we had in common was my mom. Other than that, we were two opposites, a world apart. 

Yet, I hated the prickly silence and decided to attempt to make conversation. "Well…uh…how long have you known my mom?" I asked, even though the question was so utterly lame, I was mentally smacking myself on the forehead.

Cindy paused from scraping the eggs off her plate to think. "Hmm…I've known yo mom for a long time. But…how long? That, girl, is a good question."

"She says you know everything about her." 

"Yeah, we talked one day, and she told Original Cindy ev'rythang." 

"Oh," was the only reply I found suitable as I rose from the table to clean my dishes. I really didn't know what else to say, as I found out that some girl knew more about my mom than I had before the previous night. 

We fell into an uncomfortable silence, but didn't say anything more until Mom padded out into the kitchen, yawning. "Good morning," she muttered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Good morning, Mom."

"Mornin' boo." Mom sat down at the table, taking my place where I had occupied only a couple minutes earlier. She stretched and then turned to look curiously at me, fully starting to wake up. 

"Didn't you wear those clothes yesterday?" she asked me.

"Uh…yeah," I replied, slightly embarrassed. 

"Better change them then."

"Yup." 

"You going out riding today?"

"Perhaps."

  
"Perhaps?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow. 

I grinned, almost mischievously. "You know I will."

"That's what I thought." Then, she turned to Cindy. "You going to finish these eggs?"

"No, boo, you can have all 'dem eggs." 

"Thanks," Mom smiled and heartily accepted the remainder of the scrambled eggs. 

My dishes dried and put away, I turned to my mom. "Can I go out as soon as I get changed?" 

"Yeah, just be back here by…oh…'bout noonish."

"What's at noon?"

"Appointment."

"Great," I muttered sarcastically and left the kitchen area to go and get my motorcycle compartment. 

It lay, detached from my bike, by the foot of the couch. I bent down and opened it, picking out a pair of decent clothes. Eventually, I settled with a maroon T-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans with a growing hole in the side pocket. Hmmm…was going to have to get that fixed. 

I changed quickly in the bathroom, but not before doing the daily chore of shaving. Once I was done, I headed out the door. "I'm leaving!" I called.

"Ok!" my mom yelled back. I bounded down the stairs two at time and nearly jumped out of the door, eager to hop on my bike and ride. Jumpy from excitement, I literally exited the building and ran to my bike, hopping on. Once on, I gunned the engine and zoomed off, careening down the streets.


	15. Its Max

I headed downtown, arriving in a small park like area. There were a couple children playing, along with some adults sitting and reading the newspaper. I slowed down until I completely cut the engine and walked alongside my bike, pushing it down the sidewalks. I'd probably scare some kids with the engine growling if I zoomed through the park. 

After walking for a bit, I plopped down on a rusty bench, stretching my long legs out in front of me. My motorcycle stood at my right side, patient, as always, until we would ride again. I yawned and stretched, raising my arms high above my head.

I wondered when Dad would decide to come back. Since he left three years ago, I had only seen him twice. And, every time I saw him, he seemed to be getting older and older. Like life was beating him over the head with a sledgehammer, eating away at him. 

My dad was a strong person; I wouldn't ever deny that. But, he had issues. What kind of issues, I had no clue as to what. None of my business anyhow. Yet, he had things that it's like he can't ever shake off his shoulders. Things that constantly bear down on him. 

Mom knows what they are. After all, they only lived together for fifteen years. They should know nearly everything about each other-even if they never got married. Besides, thinking of my mom in a white wedding dress and my dad in a tuxedo? Impossible.

I continued pondering why Dad was like he was when I heard a voice. "Hey, is that a dog or something?"

I looked up to see a girl standing in front of me, hands on hips. "What?" I questioned.

"Your bike," she said, pointing to my motorcycle. "Where's its leash?" 

Laughing quietly, I patted the leather seat of the bike. "I've taught it to heel."

"Really? I'm impressed," she replied with a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Then she laughed. "Sorry. I was just walkin' by and saw you sitting there with your bike. It was just kinda funny how you were sitting there like a dog owner while your faithful pet waited by your side."

I rose to my feet and looked at her closely. She was lightly tanned, natural though, not a typical fake tan. Her long dark hair hung in tiny braids that cascaded in a waterfall down her back. Slicked in silver eyeshadow, her deep brown eyes were still laughing even if she wasn't at the present time. 

She wore a pair of faded bib overalls that sagged down over her orange T-shirt, which proclaimed her love for an oldie rock band. Wearing a pair of worn sandals, her toes were brightly painted in alternating colors of orange and magenta. A pair of headphones looped around her neck, still quietly playing, as she held the CD player in her left hand.

"Haven't seen you around here," she stated.

"Yeah, well I arrived yesterday."

"That'd explain it. So…how do you like the _lovely _city of Seattle? Beautiful, isn't it? The garbage sculptures are simply amazing."

"It's interesting, I guess," I replied.

"Interesting." She frowned, considering the answer. "Yep, that's Seattle for ya. Interesting." Then she laughed. "By the way, what's your name? We've been sitting here chatting, and I don't even know who the heck you are!"

I grinned, feeding off of her exuberant vibe. "Alanza."

"Alanza? Hmm…sounds like all gypsy and stuff."

"It's not." 

"Stand for something?" she asked.

"Yeah, 'ready for battle'."  
"Going into the army? 'Be All You Can Be' remember," she recited.

"No, it was my mom's choice."

"Yeah, my mom named me after an old friend. It was like her sister or _something_. And get this, I've never even _met _this friend! How annoying is that?!" she exclaimed.

I laughed. "So what is it, then?"

She sighed, then rolled her eyes. "Don't laugh. It's kinda weird."

"Like mine isn't?"

"True." She shrugged. "It's Max." 


	16. Seven Seconds

"Max?!" I nearly yelled.

"Wow, calm down, girl, it's just a name, not that big of deal."

"No, no, no," I replied, shaking my head. "Your mom is…Jace? Right?"

"Uh…yeah…"

"And she named you after her friend named Max?"

"I believe that's what I said," she replied, somewhat warily.

"My mom is the Max you were named after!" 

"What?"

"Okay…listen to me here," I nearly panted, breathless from the excitement. "Your mom is named Jace?"

"I just said that…"

"And she named you after her friend named Max?"

"Am I hearing an echo?" 

"How much did your mom tell you about this friend of hers?"

"Not too much," Max admitted. 

"Manticore?"

"Manti-what?" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. Couldn't she understand? Didn't Jace tell her _anything_? I mean, after last night, I knew as much as my mom did-possibly more. 

"Sit down," I told her, motioning to the space on the bench beside me. We both sat down, facing each other, with my faithful bike waiting beside me. "Did your mom…or dad…ever tell you anything about a secret experiment in which they were involved?"

"Yeah…my mom did, but my dad doesn't live with us. He's in Wyoming, I believe." 

"And did your mom say what this experiment was about?"

Max appeared to be thinking as she paused, raking through her mind. "Something about soldiers…killer soldiers, that's all I remember though." Then, looking directly at me, "Why? How does this affect you?"  
"Listen to me, those killer soldiers in that experiment? They were our parents."

She looked closely at me, trying to determine the truth behind what I said. "How would you know?"

"My mom, she was there, she told me. Do you have, like, any special talents?"

"What?" she asked, probably confused out of her mind.

Sighing because I couldn't seem to get through to her, I stated the question again, adding in examples of what I meant.

"Yeah, actually I do. My mom told me that one day I'd find others 'like me', but I never knew what she meant. Are you all flipped up too?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Yet, not wanting to dwell on myself, I directed a question at her. "Like, what can you do?"

Max sighed. "They're not like, physical talents, I guess you could say-"

"Say what?" I interrupted, becoming rather excited if she really was the genetically engineered human she claimed to be. Ok, _I _claimed her to be. 

"Like music, for example. It just clicks with me. Give me any instrument in this world, and I can play it after a minute. Play it perfectly. And, I mock any sort of note. Tell me what note to play and I can play it-without the instrument. I can sing it, actually. And, memorization. Like, I've already memorized your license plate number-"

"That's not that hard."

"Yeah? Well, you got a license to ride that bike?"

"Uh-huh," I replied, reaching into my back pocket to pull out my wallet, digging out the picture. "This is it."

"Show it to me," she said with a nod. I handed it to her. She looked at it quickly, less than a second, then gave it back. "Your phone number in California was 653-9987, you are the height of exactly six feet, born on December 13, 2020 in Seattle, your eye color is green and-"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted, "that's enough. I get your point."

She grinned at me, pleased that she was able to prove her reasoning. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah you. If you claim to be the daughter of a killer soldier than you have to be somethin' special."

"Well…" I began hesitantly and rose to my feet, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching. "You see that street over there?" I asked, pointing to it, about a football field length away.

"Uh-huh," Max said.

"I'll go from there and back here in less than twenty seconds." 

"Give me a break."

I raised my eyebrow, questioning her. "We'll see. Here," I said to her, tossing her my watch, which had a built in stopwatch. "Time me."

"Ready," she stated, her fingers poised on the buttons. I was poised as well, my muscles coiled and my fingers clenched. God, I hoped I could live up to my boast. 

"Go!" she shouted. In a flash, I was off. Never before had I ran so fast, my legs were pumping, pounding across the unmowed grass. I hurdled over garbage that lay strewn across the lawn. Abruptly, I turned back, speeding towards her. My body was screaming at me. It'll be over soon. 

The next thing I knew, I had whizzed by Max. Slowing down, I literally had to dig my feet into the ground before stopping and turning around. "Well?" I asked.

She stared at me, open mouthed and shocked beyond all belief. "It's impossible," she told me, shaking her head. 

I walked towards her, hands on hips, breathing deeply as sweat trickled down my rosy cheeks. What was the time? She had to tell me. 

"What was the time?" I asked her.

"You're not going to believe this…"

"Yeah?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide. "Seven seconds." 


	17. To See You Again

The fact that I had ran a length of approximately two football fields in less than ten seconds both amazed and pleased me. Yet, Max was just gaping at me, probably more shocked than a person could be.

"You're not lying," she stated.

"Neither are you."

We paused, staring at each other, trying to fully understand. As much as I wanted to, I didn't read her mind-it just wouldn't have been fair. 

She was so much like me that it scared me slightly. There she was, another child of an X5 and yet, she was a child of the world. Like I, she was able to blend in with society until she absolutely had to give herself up. I wanted to hug the girl, really I did, for I had _finally_ found someone that I could relate to, someone who would understand me.

"Look, Alanza," she began. "I don't know whether to thank you or kill you for telling me."

"Not the latter, I hope," I replied with a smile.

"No, look," she told me, glancing down at her digital watch, "I have to get going, but do you think we could meet up somewhere?"

"Here, I'll give you my phone number," I said, as I searched through my pockets for a piece of paper.

"Do you really need to?"

"Oh, yeah," I replied, slightly embarrassed that I had forgotten her ability to memorize things so swiftly. After rattling off the apartment's number, I hopped back on my bike, riding away as she walked in the opposite direction. 

It was close to noon, and I realized that there was an appointment that I needed to attend with Mom. Riding down the streets, I wondered what Mom's reaction was going to be when I told her that I had met up with another X-5 protégé. 

Surprisingly, when I arrived back at the apartment building, Mom was waiting for me, ready to go. She glanced at her watch, then back up at me.

"A little later than I hoped, but before noon, nonetheless."

"Yeah, I got a little sidetracked."

"Uh-huh," she stated, then swung a leg over her bike. "Let's go." As usual, she hurried off, leaving me unable to ask or tell her anything when I needed to. She definitely needed to calm down. Cut back on that caffeine, girl. But, not even giving my engine time to cool down, I started back up again and followed Mom down the streets.

We arrived a couple minutes later at another large building. I came up behind her, letting my engine idle before shutting it off completely. 

"Hey Mom," I said, taking off my helmet, as she gazed up at the building. "Guess who I ran into today?"

"Who?" 

"Max, Jace's kid."

She turned to look at me, her eyebrows bunched together. "Max?"

"Yeah, I guess Jace named her after you."

Mom smiled, then laughed slightly. "Well, well, well, what a small world it is after all." She then turned back to the building and headed inside. "C'mon, Alanza."

The building was much nicer than ours was, and in better condition than I had hoped for. I wondered whom Mom was planning to see. A rich multimillionaire to solve all our problems? Hmm, that would be a nice change for once. 

We stopped in front of a neatly stained oak door, and Mom knocked sharply on it, before stepping back and waiting. I watched her closely, unsure what to say. From my previous experience, I learned that asking her anything was going to get me nowhere because she just ignored my questions. 

The door slowly opened, and there sat a man in a wheelchair. He wore gold-framed glasses, and his golden brown hair was showing traces of silver. Quizzically, he looked up at the both of us, studying. Then it clicked. He smiled broadly, opening the door all the way. "Max!" he cried, happy to see her. 

She went over to him, hugged him muttering something about "good to see you, too" before releasing him and turning to me, resting her hand possessively on my shoulder. 

"This is my daughter Alanza."

He smiled and extended his hand to me, which I accepted. "And I'm Logan Cale."


	18. To Give Logan

Logan Cale. The name just didn't click. "So…" I began. "You are…?" Both Mom and he looked at me, confused as to what I was getting at. "Are you a missing X-5?" I questioned, with a glance at Mom. 

He laughed quietly as Mom and I entered. "No, let's just say that your mom and I were…_are_ very good friends."

Sitting down on the couch alongside of Mom, Logan still remained in his wheelchair, watching us closely. We stayed that way for sometime before Logan cleared his throat, and Mom motioned with her eyes for me to leave the room. Rolling my own eyes, I left, but I could still hear what they were saying.

"You came back," Logan said to her, very matter-of-factly.

"I have my reasons."

"After eighteen years? An awful long time to think about your reasons."

"Logan, listen," she sighed. "Please, not now. I really have missed you."

"Same here. Life was pure hell the last couple days after you left." He laughed silently to himself, embarrassed that he was telling Mom his true feelings. "Stupidly thought about suicide for awhile there-"

"Logan!" Mom snapped, more in disbelief than anger. 

"You don't understand, Max. I had nobody. Not even Bling because he…he's not family."

"Neither am I."

"You're damn close enough. Look, Max," he said, and I heard his wheelchair creaking as he leaned closer to her. "You don't know how good it is to see you again. I thought that Zack wouldn't ever let you leave…with the baby and all."

"She's not a baby anymore…she's…"

"Beautiful," Logan replied, and I felt myself glow at the compliment he had paid me, unknowing that I was listening in. He shook his head almost sadly. "Looks a lot like…Zack, though."

"She does, I know that. Doesn't matter anyhow, he's gone now." 

"Is that why you came back?" he asked with a touch of hope in his voice. 

"Well, kind of, but there are more important matters."

"Like what?" 

At this point, Mom called me back out to the living room, where I stood, thumbs hooked over the edge of my pockets, staring down at them. "Yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Alanza, I've got a favor to ask you. It's pretty big on your part, but, I promise, it's all for good. I've waited until now to bring you back to Seattle so you could legally make your own decision on this. Besides you wouldn't have been big enough-"

"Mom? What is it?" I asked, almost impatiently. She glanced at me, down to Logan, then back to me. 

"I want you to give Logan a blood transfusion."


	19. Confess Their Feelings

"A what?" I nearly snapped, although I wasn't angry, just insanely freaked. 

"It's for his legs. I've done it before…" she began. 

"Why me?" 

"It's your blood, honey. I've already tried mine, and his body has rejected it, but I figured since you have _both _mine and Zack's, it'll probably work because you're so strong. When Manticore designed me and Zack, they put what's called 'stem cells' into our blood to help to heal wounds quicker. Last time I tried it on Logan, he was able to walk for some time before his body rejected it. I want you to try." I looked at Logan, still sitting in his wheelchair, and I wondered what it would be like never to run, to walk, to truly live life to its fullest. Although I had only just met him, he seemed like a decent enough person, and something that I did might actually help him. Besides, what harm would come to me? 

I shrugged. "What the hell, might as well try."

Mom smiled and ushered both Logan and I out into a kitchen like area. "Wait here," she told us, turned and left. 

"Well…" I began, unsure of what to say. "Not exactly what I expected to do to get some quality bonding time, but sure, whatever." 

He laughed, but didn't say anything. 

"So, exactly how close were you and my mom?" I asked, trying to prod him for information.

"Close enough," was all he said before Mom burst back in, and the transfusion began. 

I'm not a squeamish person by nature; things just don't bother me the way they do others. In fact, in biology class during dissection, I was the kid who would chop off the frog's leg and keep it as a good luck charm, pull out the fish's eye and put it in somebody's face…you get the point. 

But, when I saw my own red blood draining into this man I barely even knew, I began to feel a little bit more than queasy. It was my blood, not any dead frog's, but mine. Laying my head down upon my arms, I watched the room spin around me. Oh God, had to stop this…had to tell Mom that things weren't looking that good…Logan…Mom…Dad?

I awoke on a comfortable couch, with enough stuffing to pull me down into it. Mom was sitting by my knees, applying a bandage to the area where the needle had been inserted. "Alanza? You okay?" she asked, worried.

Glancing quickly about the room, I noticed Logan sitting in his wheelchair, watching me intently. I looked back at Mom, making eye contact. "Yeah, never been better," I replied sarcastically and proceeded to sit up again. Unfortunately, with the upward movement, my head began to spin, and I cursed silently under my breath, irritated to have such a handicap. 

"Just rest," Mom told me. 

"But I don't want to rest."

"Just rest," she repeated, rising to her feet with a quick pat on my shoulder. She jerked her head slightly, silently asking Logan to follow her. He looked at me, nodded curtly, his own way of saying thanks-even if my blood wasn't super-powered-and left. 

I laid on the couch, letting my right arm flop over my forehead as I gazed up at the ceiling, listening to the clock chime two. Could it really be two o'clock already? 

Hearing the low chiming, I remembered my promise to meet James again back at the dance club. He was an interesting guy, really he was. But he was so protected, so utterly protective of his inner being. Ok, perhaps it was the fact that I had just met him-in a bar no less, and it was probably smart of him not to open up too much. He may have figured I was just some sober prostitute. Hey, it was possible for him to think that. 

Yet, I still had a feeling that no matter how close a person would get to him, he would never be completely open. There was something about himself that he wasn't proud of. 

Knock it off, I told myself. What? Did I _really_ expect him to start talking all _Dear Abbey_ with me? Start confessing his feelings? 

And then there was Dad, who seemed as though he would rather die than confess his feelings. I wondered where he was. If he was in Canada, or Mexico, or if he was even in this hemisphere anymore. He came and left, seemingly caring about no one beside himself. Feelings, as far as I figured, were dead with Dad.

As I listened to Mom and Logan talk in the computer room, just a couple feet away, I smiled slightly to myself. Men. Did they ever confess their feelings?


	20. On One of the Stools

Mom came out to get me, bending down to see if I was feeling fine. I waved her away and rose unsteadily to my quivering feet. "I'll be okay," I reassured her. 

Logan walked…wheeled…us to the door, where he told Mom that he would give her a call if anything "occurred". As I was waiting for her in the doorway, I saw that she bent over to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Unsure what to think of this, I said nothing more and walked down the stairs, not waiting for her. She already had a man in her life-Dad. Did she really need anybody more? Okay, he hadn't been around a whole lot. And, he wasn't all emotional and fuzzy like Logan, but the fact that she could possibly be hooking up with another man, (even if my parents weren't married) both worried and disturbed me. 

I sat on my bike for about five to ten minutes, waiting for her. Finally, impatient with her oohing and aahing over Logan, I turned on the engine, listening to the sound of it growling next to my toes. 

I had just released the clutch to shift into gear when Mom came running out, calling after me. "Alanza! Wait up!" Pausing, I had to quickly decide if I was going to pretend not to see her or listen to her. The latter got the best of me, and I turned around, waiting for her.

"You sure you okay to ride?" she asked me.

"Mom, you ask me that one more time…" I replied with a smile, trying to forget about the kiss she and Logan had shared. 

Mom laughed as well, starting up her bike, then she raised a eyebrow. "Race ya home."

"Really? You think your old clunker can go against my bike?" I replied, equally cocky.

"Let's go."

"Bring it on," I replied, ready to go, the incident between her and Logan instantly forgotten as I sat, poised on my beautiful, sleek bike. 

"Go!" she shouted, and we were off. It was funny, really it was. No longer were we fugitives from Manticore. No more were we mom and daughter. It was all about the race, feeling the wind whipping through your hair and into your mouth if you open your mouth to scream; letting the bike go running over a smooth jump, and landing, praying that your back tire won't spin out; your hands trembling on the quivering handles as the blood pumps frantically through your screaming brain. 

My bike may have been newer, but Mom was more experienced than I. Yet we both had our own advantages, and wouldn't you know, neither one of us won the race as we zoomed up to the building from opposite directions. She was laughing, her face flushed and hair tangled. 

I hopped off and walked towards her, extending a hand in congratulations. She gave me a high-five. "Nice riding."

"Really?"

"Yeah." 

"Thanks," I replied with a smile, as we walked into the building. Once we had entered the building and were walking up the stairs, I turned to her. "Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you never told me about Logan?"

She sighed. "Logan was part of my past that was one of the few things I understood. Besides, I wasn't sure if he was still…around, to be frank, and I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"Get _your_ hopes up," I told her. She smiled slowly, as she fished a key out of her pocket. We both knew that Original Cindy wouldn't be home. Apparently, there was another girl in town that wanted to meet Cindy "up close and personal". Yeah, whatever.

Mom entered before me, as I bent down to tie my shoelace that had come undone during the speed racing. She flicked on the lights, and I saw her shadow freeze as I watched the floor underneath me. "Alanza," she said to me rather placidly, yet with just enough ice in her voice to make me immediately listen. 

"Yeah?" I asked, standing up slowly.

"There's someone here to see you." 

"Who?" I questioned, moving into the apartment and closing the door behind me. Mom didn't need to answer though, for there, sitting on one of the stools was nobody else besides Dad.


	21. Looking Strangely at Me

"Hey 'lanza," he said nonchalantly, rising to his feet, a loose smile pasted crookedly on his face.

"Dad," I replied, grinning as I hurried towards him to give him a hug. He hugged me gently, before releasing me, watching me carefully.

"You've gotten taller."

"No, I haven't, your mind is just getting old."

"You've changed then." 

"Since you last saw me about a year ago? Not much, Dad." 

I had changed a little bit, but nothing real obvious. There was simply a difference in hair coloring when I highlighted some of my naturally brown to blonde, and I was wearing a different clothing style, due to the ever-changing fads. 

He, of course, hadn't changed any. He was still as tall and proud as he always had been. His quickly fading blond hair was swept back alongside his head, tucked carefully behind one tanned ear. For clothing, he wore black shoes, a simple pair of blue jeans, and an old shirt. Of course, let's not forget _the _leather jacket. I swear, he wore that jacket everywhere. He said he felt comfortable in it. I said that he couldn't let go of the past. 

Releasing his gaze from me, he glanced over at Mom. "Hello Max."

"Hello," she said, attempting to look busy in the kitchen. Like I said: attempting. Mom isn't Susan Sunshine, homemaker queen. The only time I had ever seen Mom cook something herself was when…hmmm…Anyhow, both Dad and I knew that she was just avoiding conversation.

There was a lot of tension in the air that wasn't about to be ignored. Fortunately, the shrill ringing of a phone interrupted it, freeing us all from conversation. I mean, what were we supposed to say, "Hey Zack, good to see you. Haven't seen you in about a year since you ran off again, but hey, just pop back into our lives and pretend nothing happened"? 

Mom answered the phone, then held it out to me. "It's for you," she said.

"Who is it?" I asked, taking the cordless phone from her. She shrugged and headed back into the kitchen to pretend to be busy. I rolled my eyes. If she ever wanted to be an actress, she was definitely going to have to improve on acting like a typical mom. 

"Hello?" I said into the phone, not sure who it was. After all the people I had met so recently, I had to question what kind of person would be calling me.

"Hey, Alanza?" the female voice answered.

"Yep."

"It's Max."

I immediately smiled, which I was sure could be heard through the phone. "Hey, what's up?" I asked, sitting down on the couch, since I didn't have my own room to retreat to. Unfortunately, not having my own room, meant that Mom and Dad could sit right there and watch me, listening in on my conversation. Definitely going to have to keep it clean.

"I called my mom just a while ago and everything you told me? It's true."

"Uh-huh…"

"So, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up later on, y'know, just go out and do somethin'. I don't know all that many people here, so a new friend would be more than welcomed."

I laughed, agreeing with her. "Same here. The only people I've really gotten a chance to know are my mom's old lesbian friend and another of her old friends." I didn't say that the other old friend was perhaps an old boyfriend. Like I said, my conversation was going to have to be limited with my dad sitting right there. 

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Well, I've got an 'appointment', so to say, to meet up with a guy I met last night. Hey, you want to meet me there? I mean, I don't think he'll stay around for a long time…he's not your regular party dude."

"Sure, where's it at?"

I rattled off a street number and the name of the dance club, along with an approximate time for her to meet me there. She replied that she'd be there. 

"Great, see ya there," I said.

"Bye."

"Bye Max." Click. 

I hang up the phone to face my parents. Mom wasn't really paying attention, since I had already told her about Max Jr., but Dad was looking strangely at me. 

"Max?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow. 


	22. Reverberations Echo

I glanced quickly at Mom, who, upon hearing Dad's question, had looked at me. Was I supposed to tell him or not? Wiping her hands off on a towel, Mom nodded, telling me to proceed. Yet, she still stood defensively behind me, watching Dad closely. 

"Max is a friend of mine," I told Dad.

"Really?" he questioned, unimpressed, as he rose to his full height. I though, was close to his height, and therefore, was not intimated by his presence. "And, what are the odds that there would be another Max in Seattle besides this one?" he asked with a nod towards Mom.

"Pretty good odds considering I just met her," I bit back. Unlike my mom and I, my dad and I did not have the best relationship. For starters, he wasn't one to have a relationship. I didn't think it was in him to actually have a lot of emotions required in a relationship. Secondly, Dad had been gone for three years coming and going as he deemed acceptable, and that basically ticked me off right then and there. You don't leave your partner and kid alone. Lastly, both Dad and I were too headstrong for each other, always butting heads on something…anything.

"Don't start it," he told me angrily.

"Start what?"

"Who is Max?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"She's a friend of mine."

"You've already said that, Alanza. Quit repeating yourself like a mindless drone."

"Does it matter who she is? You never care!" I yelled at him, fuming. He could be just so infuriating sometimes. Ok, I wasn't an innocent angel either, but he just had that ability to bug the hell out of me. 

"Don't talk to me like that," he hissed, not wanting to raise his tenor voice to yelling.

"Yeah? Well, what if I want to? Y'know, it's true, you never seem to care about me…or Mom!"

"Alanza…" Mom said softly from behind me, but I ignored her. Dad was not a threat to me. 

"Who is Max?" he repeated.

"Well, well, well, _now_ who's acting like a fuckin' mindless drone?!" I spat back. There was a pause as the air gathered around us. In a quick flash, I saw his hand coming towards me before he probably even realized what he was doing. Immediately reacting, I grabbed him by the wrist, holding him back. He glared at me through slit eyes, not saying anything.

"You wanna fight?" I hissed. "Bring it on." It was mocking him, really it was. We all knew that I could whip my parents' butts any day without even trying. It wasn't an opinion of any sorts; it was a fact. 

Mom didn't care either way, due to the fact that I rarely had a valid reason to get extremely angry with her. And when I was mad at her, it came and went rather swiftly. Besides, Mom never would fight me even if she had a chance. That was just the way it was.

Dad on the other hand, would fight me if he had to. I wasn't really viewed as his daughter, just another person in his way-the enemy sometimes. And, we got angry with each rather frequently, which would usually result in physical gestures. Yet, it both irritated and ashamed him that he could be beaten down by me. So, whenever we got into a verbal argument, I would poke that reminder into him, just to tell him what he was dealing with.

And, sure enough, Dad backed down, only for a little bit though. "Who is Max?" he repeated under his breath.

I backed away and grabbed my coat off the arm of the couch, ignoring his question. Again, he repeated his question. Throwing my coat on, I screamed back, "It's Jace's daughter!" Then, with a swift flick of my arm, I slammed the door shut, letting the reverberations echo throughout the cheap plaster walls.


	23. You Want to Dance?

By the time I heard Dad yelling my name from the outside of the apartment complex, I was halfway down the street and not listening. He could scream all day and nothing would make me turn around to see him. 

Again, I gunned the engine of my bike and roared down the street, deciding to go early to the dance club, even though I told James not to meet me for another half an hour or two. I couldn't just wait around back home anymore. Dad and I were both in a dangerous mood and would most likely kill each other if we wanted to. Seriously, we had both come close enough to it before. One little nudge and that's all it would take. 

I arrived at the dance club and sighed, feeling relieved that I was finally out of Dad's clutches. He would never find me here. Try as he might, I was gone. 

After pulling off my helmet and shaking my hair around, I entered the building. Inside, lights were already flashing and people were writhing to the beat on the dance floor, the cheap disco ball spinning. The air was thick with smoke and the clink of beer glasses could be heard clearly.

A quick glance told me that James wasn't there yet, so I threw my coat over a barstool, and told the bartender to watch it. He rolled his eyes as if tired of baby-sitting little drunks, but obliged nonetheless. 

I hurried out onto the dance floor, pushing past some people. The bass was cranked up far too high and was pounding the wall, sending vibrations through my entire body. The singer's voice was garbled, and I really couldn't understand what she was saying, but I didn't care. It was time to dance.

Dancing. It was something I loved to do. If the music had a beat, I would dance. There was just something about having your body becoming one with the throbbing pulse of the music. Mom said I liked it so much because of my genetics. How? I don't know, really, I don't. But, I don't care either. I just love it, that's all there is to it. 

Once out on the dance floor, I was able to make my body twist and flip, forming the musical notes in air. Eventually, some of the people cleared away just to watch me dance. I didn't like all the attention, but it didn't bother me all that much either. If they wanted to watch, let them watch. Nothing I can do about it. 

The song ended with a crashing cymbal and a loud smacking on the bass drum. Immediately, the people burst into applause and whistles. I felt myself blush and began to walk off the dance floor. The next song was slow, too slow for my liking actually. So, I pushed through the throng of people and started to head on over to the bar. 

That's when I felt somebody grab my forearm. I turned in the direction, wondering who it was. 

James stood in front of me, smiling slightly. "Nice job."

"Thanks," I replied, feeling embarrassed that he had seen me. We paused, watching the dancers out on the floor.

"You want to dance?" he asked me.

I smiled back. "Love to."


	24. That Doesnt Pertain to Him

He grabbed my hand in his and led me slowly out onto the dance floor. Tentatively, he wrapped his left arm around my waist, while interlocking fingers with me with his right hand. I let my right arm drape across his back, bringing us closer as we swayed to the music. 

"You're early," I told him with a smile.

"Never hurts to be early-does it?"

"No, no it doesn't. Guess it helped you this time."

"And you," he replied. "Why'd you come down here so early anyhow?"

"My dad came back."

"Oh."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Didn't exactly turn out to be your typical daddy-daughter reunion."

"Can relate there."

"I just don't understand my dad," I told James.

"I don't think we're supposed to," he laughed.

"Good point." 

The dance ended sooner than I had hoped. Being so close to James as we floated around the cheap dance floor, was absolute heaven. He was so much more than a guy with good looks. His personality was to die for. Obviously, his father hadn't raised him. That is, if his dad was the bad guy James claimed him to be. 

James and I wandered over to the bar where the bartender handed me my coat back. I smiled and told him thanks, even though he probably didn't care. After James had ordered a scotch and I a pina colada, we were finally able to make ourselves comfortable. 

"Isn't that drink a little bit strong?" I asked him as he took a sip.

"Nah, just can't drink it in one big gulp, though. That's when it burns." He lifted the drink up the light, looking though it. "My dad used to drink these."

"How would you know? You've only seen him for a couple days."

James laughed. "No, not my real dad, my step-dad who's basically become my real dad."

"So how am I going to know the difference if you talk about them? You want to use Dad A and Dad B?"

"My real dad won't be talked about," James replied, taking another sip of his drink. 

"Okay…"

"But, anyhow, my _step_-dad used to be an alcoholic. Got over it though…probably when Alex and Emily were born."

"Who?"

"Sorry," he apologized and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his black leather wallet. He flipped it open and pointed to what appeared to be a family photo. "See? This was taken a couple years ago, but here it is. That's my mom and dad, along with me and Alex and Emily. They're twins from my mom's second marriage with her current husband-my step-dad, that is. I think they're about seven now."

"They're so cute," I told him. "You've got to be a pretty good big brother to carry a picture of your family in your wallet."

"Thanks…I guess," he replied with a faint smile as he put his wallet back. "But it's not like I could forget them back in Wisconsin while I'm out here."

"Good point."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

I shook my head. "No, just me."

"Yeah, being an only kid isn't bad, but it can be boring."

"Tell me about it," I groaned, sipping through a straw at my drink. "Besides, my mom's got this new boyfriend," I told him. With James, I didn't have to worry that he was going to tell anybody because there was nobody he could tell that would matter. I was just another normal human being, not some freak of nature.

"Dating parents. How fun," he said sarcastically. "Is the guy nice though?"

"Appears to be. Dad doesn't know yet."

"Does he need to?"

"No, no he doesn't. Dad doesn't need to know anything that doesn't pertain to him."


	25. Havent we met before?

"Does your dad have a girlfriend?" James asked, just before he took another drink of his scotch.

"Dunno. He doesn't talk too much about his personal life. Ok," I replied with a heavy sigh, "he doesn't talk about his personal life _at all_. My dad's not your typical Hallmark daddy."

"The good old, 'If they don't know who I am, they can't use it against me' routine." He laughed slightly, and I could see that the alcohol was getting to him, despite the fact he'd only had a little bit. Perhaps he had drunk more before I met up with on the dance floor. I couldn't be sure. "A lot of people are like that today," he said, referring to my dad's closed lips.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You just don't know who you can trust anymore," he replied quietly and turned away from me, facing the glittering glass bottles behind the sleazy bartender. James' eyes were far away and he was thinking about something. Something that was untouchable to everyone he met, but ate away daily at him. I observed him for a moment, wondering when I should bring James back to the real world. His face was placid, but his eyes were fixed. I gently touched his bare arm.

"James?" I whispered, even though the bar was incredibly noisy. He probably wouldn't be able to hear me over the music and the screams of the dancers. 

Yet, surprisingly, he turned back to me, coming slowly out of his seemingly drugged state. "Sorry," he apologized.

I shrugged. "No big deal."

"I just go off into these funks sometimes…y'know…where you mind's on cruise control?"

"Don't worry about it."

We lapsed back into silence, both of us watching the drunken dancers. Most of them could barely stand, they were so smashed, and the ones who could stand were just plain pathetic to watch anyhow. I was surprised at how many people were drunk. It was a Sunday night, early on too, and that's not usually the big drinking hour. Hmm. Must be some frat party I was unaware about.

"Y'know," I began, breaking the silence so abruptly that James glanced back, slightly startled, at me. "I've always wanted to be a dancer…like on Broadway." 

"Really?" James asked, starting to turn around more fully on his barstool.

"Really."

"You'd be good at it," he replied, now facing me.

"Thanks."

"No big deal," he answered, mocking my voice when I had said it to him. We both smiled.

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"What's your last name?"

"Gonna check out my prison record?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a crooked grin.

"No, just your rehab visits."

"Ah, well, then be sure to check under Wilson."

"James Wilson?" 

"Yeah," he replied, taking another swig of his drink.

"Sounds distinguished."

"Thanks…I guess," he answered uncertainly. "So, now that you know mine, what's yours?"

"Guevara"

"Alanza Guevara…has a ring to it. Makes you sound Hispanic." 

"Blame it on my mom."

"Could be worse," he said. 

I was about to say something else when a voice yelled my name from across the room. I looked up, followed by James to see Max coming across the dance floor, pushing her way through the nearly dead drunks.

"Hey, girl, what's up?" she asked me.

"Nothing much, glad you showed."

"You doubted me?" She laughed. "You don't know me as well as I thought you did." She then noticed James and their eyes met. "Haven't we met before?"


	26. Im not sure

James looked hesitantly back at me and then to Max again, thinking about what to say. "No…you must have me mistaken with somebody else."

"Hmm…that's funny, 'cause I'm pretty damn sure I've metcha before."

"Sorry, but it's been fun," he told her, rising to his feet and shrugging his jacket on. He smiled slightly, humoring her. "We'll blame it on reincarnation."

Max laughed. "Right." 

James turned to me as we walked to the door together so he could leave. "Do you want to meet up for coffee or something tomorrow? To be honest with you, this place makes me feel like some horny old guy looking for a prostitute," he admitted.

"Yeah, well I feel like that prostitute sometimes. But, coffee would be great. It'll give me a chance to get out of the house. What time?"

"I can pick you up on my lunch break."

"Sure, where do you work?"

"At this little place that deals with architecture downtown." He shrugged. "It's not a whole lot of money, but it lets me keep the apartment without living with my dad." 

"Doesn't sound that bad."

"It's not. So, I'll pick you up about one-ish?"

"Sounds good," I told him, right before telling him which apartment I was at. 

"I know where that's at."

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yep," he answered and disappeared out into the night. I watched him walk across the road and get into his car before heading back to Max. 

She had already ordered herself a beer and was drinking it like there was no tomorrow. 

"Calm down, girl!" I cried with mock horror. "What? Did you just get out of AA or something?"

Max laughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which caused me to roll my eyes. The girl did not have any manners. But, on the other hand, we weren't exactly with jolly old Queen Elizabeth sipping tea. "No. I am just so thirsty!"

"So you order a beer?" I shook my head. "Not smart, girl." 

"You're the designated driver."

"Really?" I asked, raising in eyebrow. "When did this come about?"

"Since I just downed an alcoholic beverage." She raised her glass to the bartender, who took it casually. "Another one, please." 

"You're deranged."

"Thanks," she replied, taking the drink from the bartender and chugging some more down. 

"Anytime." I paused, watching her drink. "So, what's up with James and you?"

"James?"

"The guy that was just here." Good Lord, the alcohol was affecting her already. 

"Oh, him. I just thought I knew him. Y'know? Like when you see somebody and you're like, 'hey, I know you!' But you really don't?"

"Oh."

"Why? What'd you think?"

"I thought he was like your old boyfriend or something."

"Is he yours?"

"What? My boyfriend?"

"No Alanza, your dad. Of course, your boyfriend." I glanced back to the door where James had left and felt a smile form on my face. 

"I'm not sure…yet." 


	27. Face the Parents

"Well, I know I don't know him…and he don't know me…so it's all good for you," Max remarked, bringing me back to the real world.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He's cute." 

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess so? Girl, I think _you _are the one who's a little bit drunk. Not me." Laughing, I slugged her playfully in the shoulder. 

"Ok, he's appealing to the eye." 

Max gave me a dismissive eye roll and finished off the rest of her third drink. Just as she was about to ask for another, I grabbed her by the arm, holding her back.

"No more," I told her.

"Oh, c'mon 'lanza." 

"You're starting to look a little bit tipsy."

"Tipsy? Hell, I'm not tipsy," she boasted and attempted to rise from her seat. Attempted. When she was able to stand on two feet, she fell forward, relying on me to catch her. She smiled slowly. "Ok…you made your point," she replied and pushed off of me back to her seating position.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"Really?"

"No. I'm just gonna let you get squished by a semi or put on probation for under-age drinking." 

"I'm close enough to twenty."

"The age is twenty-one," I corrected her.

"That's what I mean. I'm close enough to twenty-one, because I'm twenty."

"You're still drunk."

Max laughed again, spewing her rank breath onto me. I coughed, not saying anything to be polite and tried to ignore it. "And do you think I care right now?" she asked.

"No." 

"Exactly." I watched Max carefully just in case she decided to spew. It wasn't the fact that she had only had three beers; it was the fact that she had drank them so quickly. Hopefully, I could get her home without her vomiting in the dance club. If not, there was going to be some major apologizing to the manager. 

"Max?" 

"Yeah?" she asked, her drunken eyes struggling to focus on me.

"How'd your mom take the news of you discovering your 'true self'?" 

"As well as could be expected. She said she was sorry…somethin' like that. I don't remember," Max replied, waving a limp hand. 

"I just hope I didn't get you in trouble."

"Trouble? What for?"

"Never mind," I told her. I glanced at my watch and realized how late it had become so quickly. Great. The last thing I needed was Mom angry with me as well as Dad. Two angry parents were not what I had in mind for a family reunion back with Dad. "Let's get going," I said to Max.

"Huh?" 

"It's late."

"Nu-uh."

"Come on," I replied, grabbing her around the waist and nearly dragging her out to my motorcycle.

The air was rather cold, but not winter freezing. Already thick fog had settled into the city, neighbors of the obscuring clouds in the sky. In the far off distance, I could hear a police siren wailing through the misty night. 

I put the helmet on Max's head myself, since her finger couldn't coordinate to hook the straps together. Then, after I had got partially on the bike, I grabbed her and put her on behind me, making sure to keep one hand free to hold onto her, for she really couldn't support herself. 

Somehow, Max managed to mumble her address to me. I was surprised she could even think. The poor girl was going to have a major hangover the next morning. Yet, I headed on over to her apartment complex, which, surprisingly, wasn't that far from mine. I made sure to go slow on the bike so that she didn't fall off.

Once at the apartment, I made sure she made it into bed and was safe before I tiptoed back out to my bike. I sighed heavily, watching the balloon of the moon drifting in the velvet sky above. It was time to go home and face the parents. 


	28. Hate Him So Badly

I arrived home much later than I had anticipated, due to the fact of partying with not only James, but Max as well. Ok, talking with James and watching Max get drunk, but that's not the point. The point is that I was out late.

Yet, when I entered the dimly lit apartment, Mom was still sitting at the table, staring off into the distance. As she looked up to make eye contact with me, I noticed the coffee mug in her hands.

"Good. You're home," she told me, rising to her feet; her face blotchy in the pale, creeping moonlight that trickled in through the window.

"You don't have to wait up for me. I can take care of myself."

"Well, I did anyhow." There was a long pause as she put the dirty coffee mug in the sink and began to rinse it out in an almost methodical pattern. "Original Cindy's back, so try to be quiet when you go to bed," Mom said. Then, she walked slowly to her room, having put the mug away in the cupboard, dressed in her flannel pajamas.

"Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Dad?" I asked her.

She stopped in the open doorway, leading into her bedroom, as she let her pale hand clasp the doorframe. "Zack's up," was all she said before retreating into the shadows of the room.

I knew what "up" meant. Dad was up on the rooftop, looking down on the city. He'd go into these moods, (usually after a fight), pretending that he really didn't care, when we all knew that he did.

Slowly, I moved away and out into the hallway. I crept out into the hallway, ready to climb the shivering stairs. I had given up praying for the stairs to hold me some time ago. If they were going to collapse, no amount of praying would stop them.

After climbing up the stairs quietly, so as to not wake any neighbors, I arrived on the rooftop. The air was colder than I remembered it being when I dropped Max off. But, as expected, Dad was the only one up there.

He was leaning on the thick cement barrier around the edge of the roof, casually sipping beer while staring out at the brightly-lit city below. Shivering from the chilly air, I strolled up to him, resting my elbows on the freezing cold cement wall. 

Dad looked up as I settled down beside him and held out the caramel colored bottle towards me.

"Want some?" he asked.

"I'm too young to drink."

"You do anyhow," he replied and set the bottle down in between us. 

Neither one of us would ever mention the fight-not if we could help it anyhow.

Dad sighed beside me, creating puffs of steam around his mouth. I noticed for the first time since he had arrived that he was attempting the look of facial hair. Interesting. 

"What do you wish for?" he asked me suddenly, his voice hollow and far away.

"Huh?"

"What do you wish for?" he repeated.

I sighed, unsure of what to say. There were a million things I wished for, but knew I would never get. Being a normal human, having normal parents, that the world was a better place, that the pulse had never happened…the list was endless. "I don't know," I admitted.

He turned to look at me from his crouched height below my full, erect height. His eyes were glazed over, like he had had too much to drink, but they still portrayed that proud look of his. Cocking an eyebrow, he smiled faintly, then slowly turned back to the panoramic view below.

"I was in Phoenix a couple weeks ago," he began and took a sip from the bottle. "While I was there, I heard about this really bad car crash. I mean, really bad. Apparently, some guy had gotten over in the wrong lane and hit somebody else head-on, causing them both to spin into a nearby ditch full of water-"

"What does this have to do with a wish?" I asked him.

"I'm getting to that.

"Anyhow, I was in the area at the time, only about a half a mile from where it happened. So, I went over to investigate, just for the hell of it-y'know? Both of the people were dead from head injuries. One of them was a girl, not far off from your age. And the other? I didn't get his whole name, but later found out that it was an old guy with the name D. Lydecker."

I froze, not sure of what to say. My mouth suddenly felt very dry and pasty, like someone had swabbed it out with a cloth. I swallowed before asking, "And your wish?"

"I know it's cruel, but sometimes I wish I could've been the one to kill the bastard," he replied with a hoarse laugh as he took another swig of the beer.

I said nothing, for there was nothing I could say, except wonder what Lydecker had done to my parents to make them hate him so badly. 


	29. Three Became One

I lay on the couch, staring upward at the cracked ceiling. Sleep seemed impossible to catch that night, and I wasn't about to count sheep.

My mind was a tumult of thoughts. Thoughts that, like a giant wave, gathered force and smashed against the side of my skull, before coming together again only to continue breaking surf in my mind. 

Mom was asleep in Original Cindy's room. She had moved after Dad had come in and asked for a place to sleep in. And I wasn't about to give up my couch. So, Mom moved, and Dad got her old room.

I now listened to his peaceful, deep breathing from the room a couple feet away. It surprised me on how placid he could be in his sleep; I had never seen Dad truly calm.

Mom and Original Cindy breathed in tiny little traces, nothing more than two tinkling breezes forming to become one. It was like they were whispering secrets in their sleep to each, talking about the eighteen years that had been forgotten between them. I wondered briefly if Cindy knew anything about Dad. Who knew, and to be perfectly honest, who cared?

Rolling over on my side, still struggling for sleep, I smiled to myself at the thought of Cindy and Mom like little girls sharing a sleepover. Cindy had the hair rollers and mud mask, while Mom had the fuzzy pajamas. Now all they needed were some pictures of guys to giggle and whisper about.

I was dressed in a nightgown that Cindy had bought me during the day at the department store she worked at. Mom was going to go job shopping the next day. She said it wasn't fair that Original Cindy had to pay the bills. Unfortunately, that meant I was probably going to have to get a job as well. Not something I was looking forward to, but _c'est la vie_, right?

From my position on the couch, I could see Dad's dark boots in the shadows of the doorframe. He hadn't even bothered to change his clothes. Besides, there was nothing he could wear. Well, I supposed there was an old teddie of Original Cindy's…

I wanted to go to him and wrap my arms around him, begging him to stay and be a real dad. Not just other man in the world. Despite all the fights we had, I still loved him. 

I remembered my coffee date with James the next day. Surely I was going to have to ask him about Max and he. Something was amiss there. 

Finally, as sleep came towards me, a gentle rain over my ocean of thoughts, I wondered which color sweater to wear with James tomorrow. Yet, my thoughts were clouded, and my breathing became one with my parents.

For a moment, for that one perfect night, we were one family, bonded together by more than blood-by love and a sense of belonging. Manticore had never existed, and a man named D. Lydecker had never been born.

We were a family of three-the perfect family. A father and mother with their loving daughter, breathing together as one, which caused our hearts, the steady pulse, to form a single rhythm. And on that night, that ever immaculate night, three became one.


	30. In Heat Again

I awoke the next morning facing the fuzzy side of the couch. Embarrassingly enough, a trickle of drool had formed down the side of my face, and my now asleep hand, for I had been laying on it the entire night, wiped it away slowly. My eyes, crusted with sleep, produced blurry images as they adjusted to the environment around them. 

Once I had rolled over on my back, I knew something was wrong. I mean, I didn't know exactly what was wrong, but something was disturbed in the air. If you think with all my super-sensing abilities, that I'd be able to tell precisely what was wrong, you'd be the one who was wrong. But, hey, cut me some slack, I was tired and was awake earlier than needed.

It must've be no later than 5:30 when I rolled over on my opposite side to see what had woke me up. I heard the faint clinking of pans rubbing together and a low singing. Rubbing more sleep out of my eyes, I moaned, trying to wake up more fully. Not as easy as you'd think.

I rose slowly to my feet and plodded over the kitchen area and leaned on the countertop. Original Cindy, with her frizzy hair tied back in a shawl, was doing the singing.

"Isn't it a little bit early?" I whined, my eyes still pinched shut from the early morning light. 

"When Original Cindy gotta go t'work, she hasta git up early."

"It's not even six!" I protested.

"I know, boo."

I walked back over to the couch and flopped down, throwing my right arm over my eyes to block out the light. Cindy, not really caring, continued her singing in the background. Just because she had to go to work early didn't mean that the entire apartment had to be woke up as well. Ok, so that was a little bit harsh, but I wanted to actually sleep in.

As I lay there, attempting to go back to sleep, (key word: attempting), I heard the soft pad of feet go by me.

"Mornin'" Cindy said to the person.

"Morning," the person mumbled back. I heard them walk over to the bathroom and close the door, letting it click locked behind them.

"Who was that?" I moaned, refusing to get up.

"'Dat be yo father."

"Zack?" I questioned, just to make sure.

"Uh-huh." She paused, and I heard the clinking of plates as she set the table. "You want somethin' to eat?"

"Might as well," I muttered and literally rolled off the couch to join her for breakfast. It's not like I wasn't getting anymore sleep that morning anyhow. 

Cindy and I had grown closer than I thought possible. She might have been a crazy old lesbian, but she wasn't _that_ crazy. Besides, aren't we all a little crazy anyhow?

We both ate toast with jelly and milk. I would've preferred juice, but the pulse wasn't forgiving to certain people. Everybody had to sacrifice something. And, if my sacrifice had to be juice, then so be it. 

"Mom still in bed?" I asked Cindy between mouthfuls of sticky toast.

"Yeah, but she…" Cindy paused as she finished chewing. "But she was not in one of her betta moods last night."

"Huh?"

"Boo tossed and turned like she was runnin' or somethin'. Nearly pushed Original Cindy off 'da bed. Then, she got like all hot. Kicked all the blankets over to Original Cindy and began pacin' the room-"

That's when Mom came out, wrapped in a bathrobe, and interrupted Cindy. "Good morning," she purred and began to prepare a cup of coffee.

After watching her for a minute, and, having heard what Cindy had said, I knew what the disturbances in the air were about. I hadn't suffered through eighteen years of it not to know. "Oh no," I moaned and laid my head in my hands.

"What?" Cindy asked. Mom apparently hadn't heard me-not that I was surprised.

"She's in heat again." 


	31. Longest Day of Heat

Original Cindy stared me, as if confused, glanced over to Mom, then back to me. "You sure 'bout that?" she asked me in a hushed undertone.

"Of course I'm sure." That's when I remembered Dad. He usually timed his arrivals and departures just right so that he would leave before Mom came into heat. Obviously, he was off this time. And since his visits usually lasted about a week, we were all going to be majorly screwed. Both figuratively and literally for some of us. 

Original Cindy apparently remembered Zack as well, for she said, "We gotta git Zack outta of 'de 'partment."

"I know, I know," I told her, rising to my feet to rinse off my dishes. Mom, still preparing her breakfast, looked up as I walked by. She was giving off enough pheromones. It was definitely heat all right. "Mom?" I asked her.

"Yeah Alanza?"

"Is it 'that time'?" I questioned. We both knew that Mom's urges were hard to control. She even admitted it herself. So, it was better that more than one person knew, and therefore she could be helped easier.

Mom nodded reluctantly. "And, _of course, _this has to be the time Zack shows up." She drilled her fingernails against the countertop, edgy and nervous.

"I'll take care of him," I volunteered.

"And I'll watch you, boo," Cindy offered.

"But you gotta go to work," Mom countered. 

"You're lookin' for a job-ain't cha?"

"Well…yeah…"

"Aiight, Original Cindy just tell her boss 'dat you can work alone in 'de back room."

"I guess that would work," Mom admitted reluctantly. 

"You guys had better get going before Dad gets out of the shower," I reasoned. 

Unfortunately, my remark came a little bit too late. 

Dad, freshly showered, was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching the three of us intently. He was dressed in the same clothes he had arrived in. "Who's going where when I get out of the shower?" he asked us.

Mom immediately began to move towards him, her feline DNA blocking the rest of us out. The only thing she could think about was Dad. 

It's funny, it really is. Female X-5s may have the heat cycles, but the males aren't much different, (or so Mom's told me). They're like male cats; they can't resist a female in heat. And, like the rest of the male X-5s, Dad wasn't much better than a male cat around a female.

"You betta get dressed," Cindy told me. "Hurry up!" 

I hurried over to my motorcycle suitcase and began to grab some clothes. Cindy was holding Mom back, but it wasn't going to be easy. 

Darting into the bathroom, I threw on my clothes faster than I thought would be possible. With a quick flip of my wrist, I scanned a brush through my silky hair and ran back out.

In a matter of mere seconds, Mom was nearly on top of Dad, pinning him against a wall. Cindy was holding onto Mom's shoulders, struggling to keep her away. Dad was being a little bit of help, (but not much), by attempting to push Mom back. But, even I could see that his efforts were next to useless. 

I ran up to the bunch of them and grabbed Dad by his left forearm. Being stronger than he, all I needed was a hard yank, and he backed away. Fortunately, his mind came back to its original surroundings once Mom wasn't breathing down his neck. Thank God.

"'Lanzie," he said, surprised to see me standing there.

"Well, good morning to you too. So, if you don't want another mistake like me, let's get going." 

"What?"

"Hello? Mom's in heat. And you, of course, wouldn't notice." Pulling him towards the door, I told him, "We need to get you out of the house…for a good twenty-four hours or so-"

"Wait a minute, I don't have to go anywhere that you tell me."

"Sorry to break it to you so harshly, but yes, you do. That is, unless you want to end up having your face punched in or, like I said earlier, another me."

Dad, seeing his choices were limited, reluctantly agreed. He gave one final glance back at Mom, who, by this time, had been slapped across the face by Original Cindy. And we left the apartment before any damage could be done. It was going to be the longest day of heat Mom had ever gone into. Great.


	32. One Less Horror

To my disliking, we didn't take the motorcycle. Mostly, because Dad insisted that if we were going to be taking it, he was going to be doing the driving. And, since I'm the only one who drives the motorcycle, you can imagine how well that went over. 

So, we ended up walking down the sidewalks, not really talking all that much. And, if there ever was such a thing as an odd couple, we had to be it. 

I, dressed in a pair of khakis and a pastel pink T-shirt, let my hands swing casually at my sides as I admired everything around me. The morning was such a beautiful time of time, (even though I certainly would've preferred sleeping in until ten). Seattle, just beginning to come alive, was like a flower opening up, letting the world see its beauty. 

Dad, on the other hand, wore a pair of dark blue jeans with his dark shirt and had his hands shoved sharply into his black leather jacket pockets. His eyes were fixated on the cracked sidewalk below. He was simply the night to my day. The kind of night were you sit, with frazzled nerves, drumming your fingers against the edge of the bed where you can't sleep. And the day where bunnies go hopping across the littered park grass of Seattle. How sarcastically beautiful.

You'd think with all the time we had, walking down the sidewalk that is, that we'd talk and catch up on the months we'd missed. Well, don't be surprised when I say that we didn't. Dad and I didn't have that kind of relationship. 

"Did you get breakfast?" Dad asked me, his voice slicing through the stilled silence.

"A bit."

"Toast and jam from Original Cindy?"

"Uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes slightly. "That girl…I don't know how Max can stand her sometimes."

"She's not that bad."

"I didn't say that, she's just not exactly normal."

"And, like we are?" 

"Good point." 

We walked for some time further before Dad stopped in front of a restaurant. "You want to get some better breakfast now?" 

I gazed in the window and smelled all the delicious breakfast food. The greasy, glistening sausages next to fluffy, warm waffles and pancakes accompanied by poofy yellow eggs…and juice! They had juice! Apple juice, orange juice, grape juice, cranberry juice…oh they had juice! Dad was going to have to hold me back so that I didn't go into a frenzy inside.

"You sure you can cover this?" I asked Dad. "It looks rather expensive."

"I've got it," he assured me and we stepped inside.

The interior of the restaurant was air-conditioned, so that the rising humidity outside didn't dare intrude upon the luxury of others. A man, dressed in better clothes than I owned, greeted us, (although not before taking a disdained look at Dad and I). "May I help you?"

"Table of two," Dad told him.

"Smoking or non?"

"Non."

"Good, right this way then." 

He seated us at a booth table, which Dad and I sat in, letting the soft leather fold around us. The man left and said another waiter would be right back. 

"Nice," I stated.

"Very," he agreed.

I paused before saying, "Thanks."

Dad grinned cockily. There was something up his sleeve. "Well, thanks for getting me out of the house before Max got to me. Like you said, having another one of you wouldn't be any road trip."

"I'm offended," I replied with mock horror.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. Besides, I'm actually glad that you came along. What would Max and I have done with ourselves for eighteen years?" he asked with a laugh.

"Not changing my dirty diapers."

"Ah, but I never did that. One less horror in the world that I had to deal with." 


	33. Joyous Cries

I was about to counteract his statement by saying that a baby's stinky diaper couldn't be _that_ bad when our waiter arrived.

"Are we ready to order yet?" he asked, as if he would be eating with us.

"Uh…yes," Dad told him, glancing at me for affirmation. "I'll have the waffles-"

"What side dish would you like with those waffles?" the waiter, Troy, interrupted.

Dad paused and I saw his eyes light up angrily for being cut off so harshly. With clenched teeth he finished, "The scrambled eggs with a glass of milk."  
"And you?" Troy asked me.

"Pancakes with a side of mixed fruit, and two glasses of orange juice."

"_Two_?"

"Yeah, two. Somethin' wrong with that?" I asked him, arching an eyebrow.

"No, no, I'll be back with your drinks in a moment," Troy replied and hurried away.

"Sure is stuck-up, isn't he?" I told Dad.

"Just a bit, but working in a place like this, maybe it's a requirement for them to have something up their ass." We both laughed over that remark until Troy, the hoity-toity waiter, came back with our drinks. 

I immediately gulped down the orange juice, letting its bitter acid slid down my throat, then coating it with summer sweetness. Ah, juice had never tasted so good. At least another two glasses would be needed.

Dad, on the other hand, drank his milk like a normal person-not like the savage animal I was being with my second cup of juice. As he set his glass back down, his hand brushed mine because I was moving my cup out to the end of the table to be refilled. Refilled, that is, when Troy got his prickled butt back over to us.

Dad stared, confused, at my hand, then shifted his gaze away and continued drinking his milk.

"What?" I asked him, knowing that he was thinking about something.

"Nothing."

"I'll find out eventually; I can read your mind. So, you might as well tell me," I argued.

He sighed heavily, not wanting to consent, but having no other way to get me off of his back. "You're fuzzy."

"Oh…the cat hair."

"Hmm…" he mumbled, drinking more of his milk. "You didn't shave this morning?"

"Well, I didn't exactly have time, considering that Mom nearly had her tongue down your throat, and you weren't holding her back."

"Sorry 'bout that."

"Not like it's your fault…all those crazy genetics. No different than my cat hair."

"I know, but still…" he trailed off. Then he glanced up as Troy, carrying our steaming plates of food, approached us. "Oh, look, our food's here," Dad said with a forced smile.

After setting our food down, Troy asked, "Is there anything else I can get you folks?"

I raised my empty glasses. "Two more juices. Grape and apple, please."

"Will do," Troy briskly said and hurried away quickly. Not quickly enough though, for I saw his exasperated eye-roll.

I picked up my fork and began to cut my pancake with the side of it. I was the kind of person who'd cut their pancakes, then put the syrup on them.

Dad had already drowned his waffles in syrup, which flowed over to the eggs. He seemed not to notice and began to eat them anyhow, as I picked at my buttery pancakes.

Off to my right, at another table right next to our booth, I noticed a rather distinguished looking couple being seated.

Instantly, I received the same vibe off of them that Brin had had, and I elbowed Dad, harder than I intended. I couldn't help the fact that I didn't know my own strength and could hurt people unintentionally. 

"Ow, what was that for?" Dad asked, rubbing at his shoulder where my elbow had smashed into him. 

"Sorry, but those people, check 'em out."

"So?" 

"They got a funny vibe."

"That's nice," Dad muttered and shoved another forkful of waffle and egg into his mouth. "Probably too much time in the tanning salon." 

"No!" I hissed. "They're like us."

"Bull-shit."

"Would you just go over there and talk to them, already?"

"Why don't you?" he retorted.  
I rolled my eyes and said nothing more, simply stabbed violently at the pancake. Dad got up and, after the couple had ordered, he strolled over to them and pulled out an extra chair.

He talked to them before I heard joyous cries and the lady leaned over and hugged him. Watching them all for a moment, I headed on over and stood beside the three of them, looking down.

Dad, noticing me, extended a hand towards the people. "Alanza, meet Krit and Syl." 


	34. Such a Somber Occasion

The lady, who I assumed had to be Syl, smiled up at me. "And, how did you come to meet Zack?" she asked friendly.

"I'm his daughter," I replied. Well, she wasn't expecting that answer. Her face fell slightly, but she was able to regain her composure quickly enough. She then turned to Zack and rested her chin on her hands as I pulled up a chair as well.

"I didn't know you had a child," Syl said.

"Well, I haven't seen either of you guys since before the fire-"

"And even that was long enough ago," Krit finished for Dad. 

Krit, with his cinnamon skin, had dark black hair that was glossy in the artificial lighting. A neatly trimmed goatee grew on his skin as if separating his face into different section. The black sweater he wore had a high neck, covering up his barcode, while his neat khakis were stretched out just enough to be comfortable and not sloppy. He was almost picture perfect, except for the blackened nail on his right thumb. Darker than the shade of his sweater, he kept it tucked out of sight, but with my vision, I could see it immediately.

Syl, on the other hand, was strikingly beautiful. Her long blond hair cascaded down around her shoulders in curly corkscrews, with part of it clipped back into a silver barrette. She wore a baby blue shirt with flowing long sleeves and a pair of silky black pants. Wearing a floppy felt hat, she had it tilted sideways on her head to cover half of her face. The half of her face that was covered was badly scarred, from the flames eighteen years ago, most likely. 

"Well," Syl began, "who's your wife?"

"I don't have one," Dad replied.

"Alanza must have a mom-doesn't she?"

"Alanza's mom would be Max," I said, finally speaking for myself.They all looked at me, amazed. Even Dad was slightly shocked that I would say such a thing. But, I was ready to defend myself-as I had been doing all my life when it came to my parents and how they hooked up. "No, it's not like that," I explained. "Before the fire back at the Seattle base, Lydecker had already combined the reproductive cells to form me. So, no, it wasn't exactly by 'natural process'," I told them.

"How's Maxie?" Krit asked, having heard Mom's name.

"She's good," Dad replied.

The conversation paused as Troy came and dropped off the food for Krit and Syl. He stared at Dad and I, confused as to why we would be sitting with somebody else, but said nothing. Besides, it wasn't his business anyhow. 

Once he had walked away, Krit and Syl, ignoring their food, continued to talk, along with Dad and I. I was so glad that Mom had told me everything about the past and the other X-5s. Otherwise, I surely would've been lost.

"So, you guys look like you're doin' pretty good," Dad stated. "How'd that happen?…And are you married?"

"No, we're not married," Krit told him. "We…well…I guess I'll start from after the fire and go from there."

"Might as well," Syl spoke up, sipping at her drink-orange juice. Smart lady. 

"Well, when the fire hit, I got blown out of the containment area, I guess that's what you could call it. We all did. The fire hit the gasoline and ripped the place to shreds. Most of us got thrown out, farther away and managed to get out, but some of us weren't so lucky…I'll get to that later, no reason to make this back into such a somber occasion," Krit explained.


	35. Saw Tears Fall

"Like I said, I was thrown some distance away. Had my leg broken and couple ribs cracked…at least that's what I assumed…it's not like I'm a doctor or anything of that nature. But, anyhow, I awoke with the building ready to fall down on me, the flames having eaten away at most of it. So, moving as fast as I could-which isn't all that fast-I got away," Krit paused and sipped at his cappuccino.

"I lived in the forest for awhile before starting to move east. Eventually I found Syl, and we joined up to go eastwards. There was nothing left for us to stay in Washington. Besides, Lydecker would be looking for us."

Syl continued where Krit had left off by saying, "So, we went out to New York City. It was hit pretty hard by the pulse, but was rebuilding a lot better than Seattle and the west coast cities. Mostly because the European countries were helping more. They didn't get by the pulse.

"Anyhow, we got hired in numerous plays and dance clubs because of all our talent with flexibility and stuff like that…" She sighed. "Twenty years of doing that turned us into rich people."

"I was going to say that I hadn't heard of any crime sweeps, so you had to make your money the honest way," Dad told them.

"What about the scar on your face?" I asked Syl. "I thought with the stem cells in your blood, it would've gone away."

She smiled sadly and reached up to touch it under the hat. "That's what I would've thought too, but it hasn't. It fades every year a little bit more. Perhaps in ten years, it'll be completely gone. Not that it matters anyhow, my eye can't function anyway. Burned too badly. It's just another horrid reminder of the past." I noticed at this time that Dad was rubbing at his leg as if it was burned or something. Giving him a questioning look, he shook his head and said nothing more. I was going to have to ask him about that later. Too much going on at the moment to read his mind. 

"So how did you guys manage to find your way up to Seattle?" Dad asked.

Krit smiled, his teeth a row of pearls. "That's actually something good. Me and Syl were down in Mexico, doing a Hispanic show and trying to get some Mexican influence into the style of show, and we ran into Jace. Apparently, her daughter had called her the other day and asked about her past. The daughter, Max, was living up in Seattle, had said that she had ran into Zack and Max's kid, and that'd be you," he said with a nod towards me. 

"Told ya," I muttered to Dad, in response to his outburst the previous night. 

"So we got a plane up here and arrived here this morning," Krit finished.

"I just can't believe…after all these years," Dad mumbled, shaking his head. 

Syl touched his arm, reaching across me. "It's what was supposed to happen."

Dad nodded mutely, shocked somewhat. "What about the others?"

"The others?" Krit echoed.

"Yes."

He sighed deeply, and I saw him glance over at Syl for affirmation. They had held the secret for eighteen years, being the only ones who knew the truth behind those that lived and died. It was time to tell. 

"Like I said," Krit began, "when the fire came, it basically blew the entire containment area apart. It came in from a certain side, so it knocked out of the walls out, but pushed the other one in, falling on some of the cells." He swallowed deeply and took a drink of cappuccino, his hand shaking. He may have been sitting in a fancy Seattle restaurant, but he was back at the fiery inferno, watching his friends die. "We were spread out enough…'Deck didn't want us getting to each other…so that the wall only collapsed in on some people…and after the wall went in, the ceiling followed. Me and Syl got blown out before the ceiling came down…" he trailed off and Syl took over, seeing his discomfort.

"After I made it some ways away, and the fire had went down a bit, allowing me to limp back, I returned to see what had happened…I found them." She paused greatly and looked away, trying to breathe. None of us pushed her onward. "Tinga…and…Jhondi were crushed by the wall because their cells were the closest to the wall that collapsed inward. It was the eastern wall, right by the door where Max left after she came in to see us.

"I was surprised that I could still tell who they were…the bodies were so crushed…oh, god, it was terrible, but they were both dead. 

"Zane and Krit were still missing, so I looked around some more to find them. They were the only ones, besides you and Max, that I hadn't seen…not including Brin. I found Zane inside the wreckage, having only part of the wall on him. He was barely conscious and wasn't thinking clearly. 

"After getting the cement off of him, I saw that his entire chest cavity was split open, exposing his insides…there was nothing I could do for him…except comfort him until he died…" Syl whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek out of her remaining good eye. She wiped it away, but more formed until I was so moved that I reached over and tried to soothe her. Her brother had died right in her arms, and she had had to live with that for nearly twenty years. 

Krit finished for her, seeing that she was unable to speak anymore, "She left shortly after, not being able to find my…my body, and that's when we met up and headed out east." 

Dad was looking away, his fist clenched over his mouth. I could see that even he, Dad, the always strong warrior, was racked with emotion. "I should've done something," he whispered.

"There's nothing you could've done," Krit argued.

"Yes, I was there before the fire occurred. I was there before everything happened. I could've-"

"You were brainwashed," Syl argued, lifting her head slightly.

"It doesn't matter, it shouldn't have mattered…three people are dead now…"

"No, three people have been dead," Krit told him. "Zack, there's nothing you could have done for us. 'Deck would've killed you, had you tried to free us beforehand."

Dad turned to face all of us, and I could see the tears coating over his usually hard and placid eyes. "I've wondered for twenty years what happened…I always thought that all of you were dead…that just me and Max survived. Now I know…now I know,"

"You couldn't have saved us," Syl whispered more to herself than Dad.

"You don't know that."

"No, but still…"

"But still, I didn't even try," Dad said and let his face fall into his hands and, for the first time in my entire life, I saw tears fall from my father's eyes. 


	36. Go Get 'Em

Dad pushed himself away from the table and staggered out of the restaurant, trying desperately not to cry. Krit followed suit, going after Dad, and leaving Syl and I alone at the table.

"Why does he feel so guilty?" I asked her, not understanding why Dad alone felt so at fault for the deaths of the others. Why didn't Krit and Syl feel the same way?

"You don't know?" 

"I know about you guys, but why him? Why is he so upset?"

Syl sighed and watched as Dad and Krit talked outside. "Zack was our captain…our commanding officer."

I gasped slightly. Dad? He had always been a little harsher than most people, but I never would've guessed that he was the leader. "And, so he felt guilty that he could save his men?" I asked, finally comprehending exactly what was going on. 

"Exactly." The conversation lulled, and we both watched Dad talking with Krit outside. It was obvious that Krit was trying to comfort Dad, but of course, Dad wouldn't let himself be comforted. He had to remain strong, despite everything. I was surprised Krit hadn't been slapped across the face for being so assertive with Dad.

"I'm sorry about your losses," I whispered to Syl, even though no one in the restaurant would've heard us anyhow.

"Thank you, but it…it's over now. There's a life outside of Manticore."

"How bad was it?"

"What? The fire? Manticore training?"

"Everything," I replied.

"We were kids…Kids that were supposed to be adults in military training."

I glanced back out the window, then at Krit's cappuccino and remembered the coffee date with James later that day. And since I was supposed to be baby-sitting Dad, I couldn't bring him along to see James. So, it was time to find Dad a new baby-sitter.

"Syl?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Depends," she replied, smiling slightly.

"Will you watch Dad…Zack…for awhile?"

"Why?"

"Well, Mom's in heat, and he can't really go back to the apartment…if you know what I mean."

"No problem. Besides, it'll be good to catch up on twenty years with Zack."

"Don't expect much talking out of him," I warned her. 

"He can be awfully chatty once you get to know him-"

"Or he's drunk."

Syl laughed, causing her golden curls to shake. "That too. So, why can't you 'watch' Zack?"

I felt myself blushing as I replied, "I got a coffee date."

"Really? Boyfriend?"

"Not yet."

She glanced back out at Krit, who was proceeding to bring Dad back into the restaurant. "Look, Alanza, remember how Zack asked about Krit and I?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, we're engaged, but the thing is, we won't ever be able to have children. So, we didn't want to tell Zack that and have him get ticked because I know that there's definitely some genetic flaws to you-"

"Like cat hair-" I interrupted.

"Exactly, so if you could just tell Max…" She paused and began to rummage around in her purse before pulling out a calling card and a pen. Scribbling a room number on the card, she handed it to me. "If she wants to talk, here's where we're staying at." 

"Thanks," I replied and slipped it in my back pocket. By this time, Krit and Dad had returned. They sat back down at the table, saying nothing. Of course, they both had to be the strong males. 

"Hey Zack," Syl said off-handedly. "Would like to stay with us for a bit? Catch up on stuff?" she asked him, remembering my request earlier on.

I think Dad knew what I was up to because he shot a cautious glance at me. Then, he turned back to Syl and nodded. "Sure. Not like I was doing anything today anyways." 

"Great," Krit said. 

I stood up and leaned over to hug Syl. "Thanks," I whispered in her ear.

"Just go get 'em, girl," she told me. 


	37. Of All People

I nearly ran home, I was so giddy and happy. I had managed to elude Dad! He was actually not any of my concern for almost a whole day! Not to mention the fact that I was going to get picked up by a cutie this afternoon for coffee! Life was good.

Not really paying too much attention as to how fast I was moving, I arrived home sooner than expected. Surprisingly, I nearly ran into a wall that had somehow "transformed" in front of me. Well, probably because I was going so fast I didn't notice that a building was approaching. It didn't matter anyhow because, "it was all good".

I pulled out the key Original Cindy had given me last night along with the nightgown and found that the door was already unlocked. Immediately, my nearly blinding bliss dropped away and my guard was up. It wasn't that I was afraid of what could happen in the apartment if someone was there. It was that I didn't like the thought of someone else invading. 

Or, in Cindy's rush to get Mom under control, she may have forgotten to lock the door. May have. Not definite.

I crept inside, being a stealthy as possible. It would've taken a real super-powered human to hear me. My parents perhaps, but even they were in question as to how strong they were with hearing.

Nothing inside the apartment appeared to be disturbed. Well, there was a tipped over chair, but I had been here when that had happened. Crazy parents. 

That's when I saw them.

Sitting so perfectly upon the kitchen counter, I saw them. They were beautiful, but even beauty can be dangerous. I approached the vase of red roses cautiously, sniffing the air for any signs of gunpowder or other toxic chemicals. Crack. Pot. But, nothing met my nose except the sweet aroma of roses. 

Who had left them? 

I saw that there was a tiny card inserted into the thick foliage of the roses and proceeded to pull it out. That's when I heard the toilet flush from the bathroom.

Whipping around, I rested on my haunches, ready to attack if necessary. Although I wasn't my dad who would kill on sight if needed, I still could be ruthless.

The bathroom door opened ever so slightly. I was poised and would spring onto the person who had dared to come into out apartment to leave flowers. Flowers? Why would they leave flowers of all things? Well, I _certainly _wouldn't know, because after all, I wasn't the masterminded criminal.

That's when the person came out and I sprang. 

Picture this if you will: A girl, about six feet tall, is flying into the air. Her legs are tucked underneath as if she is kneeling, while her mouth is opened wide as she screams, "Gotcha!" The arms are extended in bent positions, and her hands are curved into animal claws, much like a cat would arch its own paws when retracting its nails. And, like a cat, the girl is covered with a light layer of brown fuzz.

"Aaahh!!" the person cried, falling to the ground to prevent themselves from being air attacked. 

I landed behind them and stared, confused, at this person. "What are you doing in my apartment?" I asked, still tense, with my hair falling in my eyes.

The person, on the floor, but rising to their feet, sighed heavily in relief. "Thank God, it's only you," they said, brushing off their shirt. 

Arching a careful eyebrow, I asked them who they were. 

That's when they turned around. 

I then saw that I had nearly killed, of all people, Mr. Logan Cale. 


	38. Giving Me My Life Back

"Logan!" I cried. "What are you doing here?" 

"I could've asked you the very same question. I thought you were out."

"I was, but I needed to come and get changed," I replied.

Just then, I realized the obvious fact I had overlooked. He was standing, without a wheelchair or cane to aid him. 

"You're walking!" 

"Yes," he nodded placidly, as he put one hand in his jacket pocket. "I awoke this morning and found that I could bend my knees. Truly shocking. So, I figured, 'why not try?' And, I got up and here I am." He smiled. "Thank you."

"Oh…Do you know how great this is?" I asked, rushing towards him. Immediately I surrounded him in a big hug, but had to be careful not to squish him. I was so much stronger than he, not to mention the fact he was probably still rather weak from having walked so much. "I can't wait to tell Mom…" I began, but stopped abruptly as I remembered that Mom was in heat. 

"That's what I came over here for, I wanted to tell Max the good news." He nodded in the direction of the flowers. "Those are for her."

"Crap," I muttered under my breath as I backed away from him.

"What?"

"Uh…Mom can't see you right now."

"Really? Why not?"

"She doesn't feel good."

"Is she ok?" Logan asked, worried about his "precious love".

"Oh, yeah, it's probably just one of those twenty-four hour bugs."

"Is she here? I'd like to see her anyhow."

"No, she's with Original Cindy," I told him.

"Original Cindy?" he echoed. "Why?"

"Long story," I replied, hoping that he would accept that as an answer. It wasn't like I could tell him about Mom and her crazy heat cycles. That would most definitely scare the guy. 

I walked over and sat down on one of the stools next to the countertop, admiring the flowers. They were indeed very pretty, and I couldn't wait until Mom saw them. Unfortunately, there was another man in the way. Dad.

"Logan?" I asked him as he watched something on the street below.

"Yeah?" 

He moved towards me with ease, wearing black slacks and a blue sweater that accented his eyes. Despite the fact they were hidden behind thick glasses, his eyes still shone brightly. He must've been a looker when he was younger. But now, he was definitely too old for my liking. 

"There's a little problem about you and Mom right now."

"What?" he asked, almost horrified that something was wrong. Sitting down next to me, he made eye contact with me and wouldn't look away. 

"Dad's back," I told him frankly.

"Zack?"

"Yes, that'd be him."

"And he's staying here?"

"Mm-hm, but right now, he's out with some friends. I don't, well, I just wanted to let you know," I stuttered, not sure exactly what to say to him. I mean telling him that, "hey, my dad might just snap your neck if you hit on my mom" seemed too brutal.

Logan laughed faintly, amused almost at what I had said, but on the same point, he wasn't laughing at me. "This relationship between your mom and I? This was happening long before you came along."

"I didn't know that. I hate to say it, but she's never mentioned you."

"Not surprising. Zack hates me."

"Hates you? Why?" Logan seemed like a genuinely good guy, and my dad usually only hated evil people-specifically Lydecker. But, he was dead anyhow. 

Logan laughed again, this time rather amused. "You want me to understand why Zack is the way he is? He's your dad, and I'm pretty sure you don't even understand why he is the way he is."

I rose to my feet and Logan, politely, followed suit. "I'll let Mom know you stopped by-if that's ok with you."

"That's fine. Tell her I hope she feels better."

"Will do," I replied with a forced smile, remembering exactly why Mom couldn't see him.

"Thanks Alanza."

"For what?" I asked as he stood in the doorway, ready to leave.

"For giving me my life back."


	39. Going to be Good

Logan left, even though I offered to help him down the stairs. He was definitely a fighter. Anybody that wants to walk down at least three flights of stairs after learning only that morning that they can walk is a fighter in my book. And, I like people who can fight. They have a better chance of surviving in life. 

Anyhow, I was fuzzy, and James was picking me in a bit, so I needed to get ready. I had just stepped into the shower, ready to get a bath because I hadn't been able to get one already this morning, when I heard the phone ring.

Angry and very irritated, I wrapped a towel around myself. I walked out to the kitchen and picked up the phone, nearly ripping it off the wall.

"Yeah?" I asked, not even trying to be polite to anyone who decided to disturb me from my shower time. 

"Alanza?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yeah."

"It's Original Cindy…Did Logan stop by?"

"Logan? He did. Why?"

"Well, my boo's here, and Original Cindy just wanted to make sure 'dat things was all set."

"You knew about the flowers?"

"Uh-huh. He said he had some real 'portant to tell my girl. Original Cindy has been tryin' to get a hold of 'im, but he ain't there."

"I told him Mom has a flu."

"'Da flu? Well, if 'dat's what you said, then she'd got the flu."

"Thanks. Look, I really need to get a shower now."

"Hold on, girl. What Original Cindy needs to know is if Zack is gone."

"Yeah, he's with some friends."

"Aiight, so he's outta 'da picture."

"He's gone. So, no, there won't be any problems with he or Mom…or both of them together."

"Then it's all good?" she asked.

"It's all good," I replied with a laugh before hanging up the phone. 

Finally, I was able to get into the shower to wash myself. It was actually nice to be all alone for once and not have to worry about psycho parents or loony Lydeckers. 

The shower water was hot and would've blistered the skin on most people. But, naturally, I'm not most people, so I was able to enjoy myself in the water. 

Shaving, unfortunately, took longer than I had anticipated due to the gross and disgusting fact that the razor kept on getting clogged. When the good old folks at Manticore decided to insert feline DNA into my body, they obviously didn't think of creating jumbo-sized razors either. That would've certainly been a nice invention on their part, instead of creating wacked up soldiers. Ok, technically, creating wacked up babies that were _supposed _to be soldiers. 

Finally, my shower and shaving done, I stepped out of the shower to finish getting ready.

I went back to my motorcycle compartment that was still sitting by the edge of the couch and fished out some new clothes. Settling on a pair of baggy, yet comfortable, blue jeans and an iridescent red shirt, I proceeded to get dressed. 

I combed my hair a million times over, just to make sure that it looked exactly the way _I _wanted to. It took forever, but finally I was pleased.

And, just as I had shoved my keys in my pocket, I passed by the window to see James getting out of his car. It was one o'clock already?! 

But, taking a deep breath, I grabbed my coat, locked the door and ran out to meet him. This was going to be good. 


	40. Poor Genetically Engineered Human

James was still in the process exiting his black Ford Focus when I met him. Seeing me, he smiled warmly. "Glad to see I got the right apartment."

"You said you knew where it was."

"I did, but I went home and realized there was more than one apartment by that name."

"I feel real safe now," I remarked sarcastically, but with a friendly smile.

"If it helps, I have my license to drive, so at least we won't crash."

"Good job…Well, on to coffee then?" I asked.

"On to coffee," he echoed, and we both got into the car. 

The car was extremely comfortable, but pre-pulse anyway you looked at it. Leather seats equipped with heat and adjustment features along with a sweet climate control system made me wonder how badly off James really was. 

"Nice car," I remarked as we drove through the streets of Seattle, with the light mist of rain beginning. 

James laughed, "I know, but unfortunately, she's not mine, it's a rental. My other one's back in Wisconsin."

"She?" I echoed. "Why do men always call machines 'she'? It's kinda sexist."

"How so?" 

"You're making females look like we don't have a mind to think for ourselves…that we're some kind of…of…_thing_ that you can just control."

"I can see your point," James replied, glancing over at me before returning his eyes to the road.

"So how's the world of architecture?" I asked him, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"Funny that you should ask. This morning, when I got into work, some of our ceiling was collapsing inward. Technically, it had sunk it overnight." He laughed again. "You should've seen the look on my boss' face!"

"You'd think that being in the field of architecture would actually make the building hold up."

"You'd think wrong. Just because we can design buildings, doesn't mean we're the ones who create it. Blame that on the construction crew."

Just as he finished talking, we turned the corner, and James pulled into an angular parking spot. "Here we are," he announced.

I peered out my rain covered window to see the coffee shop that James had brought us to. It was most likely post-pulse, but I couldn't be sure. The people inside looked warm and comfortable, at least happier being in there than in the rain.

"Let's go," I told him and opened my door. James met me on the other side with the rain pouring down on us. "Hurry!" I cried as fat raindrops splattered onto my clothing, soaking me. Being the gentlemen he was, James allowed me to enter the shop first and he followed, only after I had gotten inside. 

We were both drenched from the pouring rain. My hair, the hair that I had worked so hard on, was now flat and starting to frizz outward. The clothes I wore were so wet that my skin had goosebumps on it. Fortunately, I still had my coat, and I wrapped that tighter around myself.

James, on the other hand, had water running into his eyes from his flattened hair. He looked absolutely ridiculous. His hair, being wavy, was starting to poof out like he had stuck his finger into an electrical socket. 

Wiping the water of out his eyes, he turned to me and said, "Let's go get a table."

"I'm right behind you."

We found a table closest to the window where the pale afternoon light fell softly inside as the rain drummed against it, creating a pacific melody. The chairs were chocolate brown with high legs and short backs, but the tabletops were made of frosted glass. An advertisement for an upcoming party or something of that sort sat innocently in the middle of the table. 

James removed his coat and offered to help me with mine, if I wanted help, that is. "No thanks," I told him with a smile. "I'm ok."

"I'll go get us something. What do you want?"

"Uh…what is there?" I asked, trying to see the menu around the heads of people.

"Typical deli food. Subs, sandwiches, salads-"

"Anymore foods that begin with an 's'?" I asked jokingly. 

"Sizzled salamanders, slippery skunk…Would you just like to come with me? Nobody's going to steal our coats."

"Sure, let's go." 

We got in line to order, and I still was unable to see the menu. I know, you'd think being six feet tall and having vision nearly better than Superman would allow me to see the menu. But, of course, let's be difficult to the poor genetically engineered human. 


	41. Not Supposed to Understand

Finally, we got our food and were able to head back to our table. Like James had said, nobody had even bothered to touch our coats. If anyone had even tried to take mine, it would've been ugly.

I had ordered a turkey sandwich with a cup of hot cocoa, while James had a meatball sub with cappuccino. He, being a gentleman again, paid for everything, no mattered how hard I protested. 

So, James and I sat down with our sandwiches and drinks at the table by the window and made ourselves comfortable. 

"How long's your lunch break?" I asked him as I unwrapped my sandwich from its tissue paper wrapping.

"Forty-five minutes." He glanced at his silver watch. "So yeah, I got plenty of time."

"That's good." We paused as we both chewed on the food, but as soon as I got done I asked, "What's up with you and Max?"

"Max? That girl at the club last night?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh geez, that's a whole lot of crap right there," he groaned, not wanting to tell me.

"You guys weren't like boyfriend/girlfriend-were you?"

"No, no, not at all. But you see," he sighed and took a drink of his cappuccino, causing a foamy mustache to form. Wiping it away, James continued, "We met a _long_ time ago in college. She had signed up for some summer course, and I was there, working on my degree in architecture. 

"Anyhow, one of my guy buddies had a big party, and she got invited. I don't know how, but she did. It was a big frat party, y'know? Just party, party, party. Well, things became a little out of control."

"Like how 'out of control'?" I asked.

"A couple people died from drug overdose. There was some nasty stuff going around. I think it was LSD, but don't quote me to that. She was as drunk as could be-"

"Yeah, I've noticed she seems to have a little problem with alcohol."

"In college, it was the crowd she was hanging out with. Her boyfriend, at the time, was an absolute jerk. But, the point is, he was one of the people to die from overdosing. That's why I didn't want to bring it back up to her last night. She already looked partially drunk and making her remember that party would just turn things into pretty nasty. Besides, we really only bumped into each other and that was it."

"I'm sorry," I apologized, remembering the people who had died.

"Why? I didn't know any of those people. Heck, I only knew about ten people out of the fifty or more that were there that night. Yeah, I sorry that they died, but don't expect me to wallow in misery over something that could've been prevented," he strongly replied.

"Strongly against drugs-huh?"

"Let's put it this way: my dad was an alcoholic, finally switched over to being sober; when I was little, my mom used to wallow in _her_ self-misery over the loss of my real dad by marijuana; and I used to smoke. So, let's just say that I've had my experience with drugs, and nothing good ever comes from it."

"You?" I echoed, surprised that stately James would ever try such a thing like smoking.

"Yeah. Not something I like to admit, but I did. Bunch of peer pressure in high school. Y'know the good old, 'hey man, wanna go get a pack tonight?'. I've managed to stay away from it now for…" James shrugged, not remembering how long. "I don't know, four, five years at the least. But, unfortunately, whenever I really start to freak, I feel like I need them. It's awful."

"Good job for staying away."

"Thanks," he replied, wiping away some meatball sauce from the corner of his mouth. "So how's your dad?"

"My dad? Well, he's with some friends now, fortunately. Tried the whole breakfast buffet in a fancy restaurant with him…"

"Food fight between you guys?"

"Almost. But, seriously, I just don't understand him."

"Sometimes Alanza, we're not supposed to understand." 


	42. Does That Answer Your Question?

James and I finished eating our sandwiches and were left sitting at the table, sipping the remainder of our warm drinks. There was an awkward silence that had fallen over the both of us. Nothing intelligent or witty could come to mind that I should've said, and I certainly wasn't going to say something dumb just to make conversation. Then, I really would look stupid.

James, on the other hand, appeared more interested in glancing back and forth between our table and the pouring rain outside. Either he was thinking of something to say, or was zoned out like he was at the dance club the previous night. 

Finally coming out of his "zone", James glanced at his watch and said to me, "We probably better get going now, or else I'm going to be late for work. Then, my boss will most likely end up killing me."

"Well, in _that_ case…"

We both laughed and quickly gulped down the rest of our drinks before we tossed them in the trash buckets waiting by the door. Since it was still raining out, I pulled my coat on, prepared to face whatever awaited outside.

I went out first and James ran behind me. We dashed to the car with James madly pushing the automatic unlock button on his keyring. As soon as we reached the black little car, we both collapsed inside, soaked completely from the pounding rain. 

And, for some unexplainable reason, the moment we looked at each other, we began to laugh. Perhaps it was the fact that we were drenched-completely. As in the clothes are sticking to your skin drenched, and your hair is hanging like limp noodles while dripping water in your eyes drenched. 

Slowly, the laughter died down, and we both straightened ourselves in the seats and prepared to go back home. Well, for _me_ to go back home anyhow. 

James turned on the engine and let it idle for a minute before pulling away from the curb, driving away from the restaurant. After we were on the road, he turned the heater on because we were both rather cold and wet. Soon, the car became warm and comfortable. 

"You know how to get back to my place?" I asked him.

"Yep. What? You don't trust me?" he replied with an arched eyebrow.

"Considering the fact that we haven't crashed yet, yeah, I guess I trust you. But, I just wanted to make sure."

"I happy to see you have so much faith in me."

"I try," I remarked.

We arrived back at my apartment sooner than expected, but the rain was still pouring down. James pulled up alongside the curb, next to the building, as we both sat in mute silence. Finally, being the daring person I was, (yeah, whatever), I broke the silence, "James?"

"Yeah?"

"Y'know…we've been like seeing each other more than necessary…and I…uh…" I stuttered. It was so embarrassing! Why couldn't I just ask it and get it over with? "Are we like…Oh geez…This is going to sound crazy-"

"Try me."

"Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but will you…are we…a couple?"

He looked away from the windshield from which he had been staring out as I had talked, and he turned his attention to me. His eyes revealed nothing, but a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"I think we both know the answer to that question," he replied. With one finger that was still slightly wet from the rain, he brushed my soaked hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. We stared at each other for some time, unsure of what to say. My mind was screaming with joy and frantic pleas. Suddenly, without thinking, I leaned in and kissed him.

James stiffened slightly, having not been expecting that, but soon he relaxed and returned the kiss. The heater was blowing hot air onto us, toasting my toes and flouncing my hair every which way. Still, I ignored it. 

When we both pulled away, James smiled fully this time. "Does that answer your question?"


	43. Operation Save Mom

I seriously must have floated the entire way back up the apartment. And, considering that we're talking about me, I'm not going to doubt it. Fortunately though, no one stopped and started screaming at the walking…er…floating freak.

Anyhow, once I reached the apartment, I sat down on the couch, sinking slowly to the ground as I watched James pull away and drive back to his own little world. He glanced up at the building, but I knew that he couldn't see me. He'd need some kind of super vision in order to see me so high up. So, considering James was a real human, not a wacked up one like yours truly, he certainly couldn't see me.

But I could see him. And that was all that mattered.

I, having only been in Seattle for a couple days, already had a boyfriend. A sweet, funny, intelligent-not to mention cute-boyfriend. 

Due to my thinking processes, you would think that I had never had a boyfriend before. Yet, I had had other boyfriends back in California. Yep, the blond Californian surfer dudes-something even the pulse couldn't stop. They were great and everything-take me to dinner; spoil me rotten while upholding their status in school as the high and mighty; complete our relationship with all the trimmings of flowers, chocolates and lots of other things. 

But James was different and for reasons I couldn't exactly put my finger on. Maybe it was because we had met in a sleazy dance club, (of all places!). Or, perhaps, it could be the fact that I was officially out of school, having graduated earlier in the year. Nevertheless, I knew that none of those reasons were _the one_. There was a major reason as to why James and I had hooked up. And, even though I didn't know it at the time, I was determined to find out. 

I fell back on the couch, letting my head rest against the arm of it as I stared up at the ceiling. I had a boyfriend! Oh how wonderful! Even though it was tempting, I resisted the urge to burst into impish giggles. Such things could send me into seizures; it had happened before. 

Just as I was about to stifle another onset of giggles, the phone rang. Struggling to get up and not laugh, I hurried over to the phone and picked it up. 

"Hello?"

"Alanza!" the voice on the other end cried.

"Yeah, this is her."

"Where have you been?"

"Who is this?" I asked.

"Original Cindy. She has been tryin' to get a hold of you for…long time. Where have you been?"

"I was out."

"Out." I could hear the plain disgust in her voice. She was probably thinking about how I was such a horrible, disrespectful teenager to abandon the apartment without telling anyhow. 

"That's what I said."

"Well, no matta right now. Original Cindy gots a problem."

"Like what kind of problem?" I asked, trying not to sigh exasperatedly. Cindy's problems shouldn't become my problems. I had problems of my own and hers were not part of them.

"Like Max problems."

"Oh god…"

"Exactly. She got outta 'de back room and," Cindy sighed heavily as people chattered in the background. She had to be still at her work. "Original Cindy don't know where she went."

"Great," I muttered louder than I had intended. 

"Can you get ov'r here and help out?"  
"I'll be right there. Just hang on," I replied quickly and hung up the phone. Of all the things to happen that day, Mom had to escape and go on a rampage across the city of Seattle. I rubbed my temples before heading out the door to start Operation Save Mom or, Operation Save Seattle From Mom. 


	44. World of Hurt

At first, I didn't have any idea whatsoever as to where Cindy worked. But, then I remembered the tag on the nightgown that Cindy had gotten me the previous night, and I instantly knew where she worked. James and I had passed it on the way to the coffee shop anyway. So, I jumped on my bike, gunned the engine and zipped down the street. I could only hope that I wasn't too late. Hopefully Mom hadn't ran into another male…or Logan…or, ugh…Dad. Don't think like that, I told myself, and I tried to be optimistic until I got to Cindy's work.

Besides, I kept telling myself, there's hundreds of males in Seattle, why would Mom go to Logan or Dad? I knew that Logan may have been able to hold off Mom if he didn't want to do "the dirty deed", but Dad? It would've been a lost cause. Despite all of his military training and strength-both physically and mentally-, even he wasn't a match for a female in heat.

The building Cindy worked at was fairly large and as I waited by the sidewalk, trying to get a hold of myself, women came out, toting fancy little shopping bags with their heels clicking down the sidewalks. A couple of them gave me a dirty look as if to say, "What are you doing here? Miss Punk Girl on her bike? Like _you_ would ever be sophisticated enough to shop here". I just smiled as sweetly as possible and pushed right past them. They were not my concern-Mom was. 

I found Cindy waiting at a large silver desk, drumming her long nails so hard against the counter I feared they were going to break right off. She didn't see me until I leaned on the counter and smiled up at her. "Hey, what's up?" I asked with a wry grin.

"Oh, thank god you got here, boo."

"Lucky timing."

"Here's the scoop," she told me, coming out from behind the desk and walking past me. I followed, knowing that she had something to show me. We past many people-mostly women-who were picking out dresses all while chattering about how their thighs were too big or they didn't have enough "chest support" to fill out a certain dress. I simply rolled my eyes and tried to block them out. "I put my homegirl in the back room," Cindy continued, pushing past a couple of snoody women, all while trying to maintain the perfect salesgirl smile. "Y'know, Original Cindy thought she'd be aiight back there, no problems-k?"

"Mm-hmm," I mumbled, nodding my head.

"Well, she broke 'de door right off its hinges, and Original Cindy ain't got no idea where she went." 

We stopped in front of what had to be the back room. The door was clearly blown right off its hinges, but someone had been nice enough to set in back where it belonged. I picked the door right up and moved it out of the doorway so that I could enter. Inside of the room, papers were scattered around like there was some kind of storm. On the walls, there appeared to be claw marks, but I couldn't be sure if that was Mom or just some kinky coworkers. 

Stepping out of the room, I ran into a man because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I was rubbing my temples, trying to stop the onset of a massive headache.

"Whoa!" he cried, holding up his hands.

"Sorry," I mumbled and began to walk back over to where Original Cindy waited with her arms crossed impatiently. 

"Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?" the man asked me. 

I turned back around, not really wanting to bother with him at that moment. There were far more important things I had to be doing than messing with some creep. Things that included saving my mom. 

But, as I turned to look at him, I realized that he did look vaguely familiar. Like someone had told me about him, but I had never seen him in real life. Everything from his greasy hair to his large eagle nose struck me as something I had seen before.

That's when Cindy came up behind me and said to the man, "Look, Sketchy, not now. We gots a problem, and you ain't part of it. So git out before Original Cindy has to put you in the world of hurt." 


	45. 50% off Bras

I rolled my eyes again and turned away. Yep, I should've figured it was Sketchy. Mom had told me enough about him as well as Cindy. And, _he _of all people, was not the person I needed to meet up when Mom was in heat. 

"So, Cindy," he said. "Are you going to introduce me to your sweet friend or just leave me hangin' here?"

"Back off or Original Cindy hafta-" she began, raising her hand in the air as if she meant to smack him.

"I can handle this," I told her.

I sauntered up to him, knowing full well that his eyes were following every curve of my body. Mom had told that he had a one-track mind. Unfortunately, his mind thought of the one thing that I was trying to stop that day.

Being the mind-reader that I was, I figured out that I could get rid of him efficiently enough. He wanted me, but I definitely did not want him. And, I'd try to be nice and not hurt him too badly-just cool him down a bit.

"Hey baby," I cooed as I ambled up to him, swaying my hips more than necessary. 

"Hey yourself."

I giggled like a ditz. "Why'd you say your name was? I didn't catch it," I said as I ran a hand over his shoulder. Ugh, he smelled like beer and smoke. It was far too obvious from his eyes that he had spent one too many nights at the bar.

"It-it's Sketchy."

"Sketchy," I hissed, purposefully drawing the "S" out longer than necessary as I ran my tongue over my top teeth. 

"What's yours?"

"Alanza." I glanced back at Original Cindy, who was crossing her arms and staring at us, extremely confused as to what I was up to. If I could've, I would've told her that everything was aiight. 

"Y'know, Alanza, you wanna go somewhere besides this place and…uh…grab somethin' to eat?" Uh-huh, I thought doubtfully. You want to grab more than something to eat.

"I don't know, baby."

He smiled broadly, revealing teeth with horrendous stains. I suppressed my gagging and continued to smile. "Aw, c'mon, it's no big deal."

I gently ran my index finger along the backside of his collar, pressing in closer to him. "You sure, baby?"

Sketchy was starting to look rather panicked as I drew closer with my eyes glittering fiercely. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"You definitely sure?"

"Yeah…" I saw his eyes dart back over to Original Cindy for questioning. Not being able to see her, I assumed she had to look as perplexed as he did.

That's when I grabbed his collar in both hands, making tight little fists as I pulled him close. "Listen, buddy," I hissed, rather irritated by this time. Why I was even bothering with this creep was beyond me. "Do you know who I am? Huh?"

"Alanza?" he asked, his voice a pitch higher, for he obviously wasn't sure if that was the answer I wanted.

Angry, I shook him by the shirt. "Wrong answer. Max's daughter." When I saw his eyes widen in surprise, I grinned wryly. "Yeah, the Max you used to work with back at Jam Pony. So, listen here, I'm not any little sex toy that you can mess with. Max is back here and, if you're not careful, Original Cindy will give you the smack-down as well."

"But I-" he protested, trying to pull away from my tight grasp.

I yanked him back, closer to me, nearly snapping his head right off of his. "But you nothin'! I'm on a very tight schedule, thank you very much. I have to go save the city of Seattle from a genetically engineered freak with far too much estrogen, then I should go check up on a man who is walking after eighteen years of paralysis due to revved up blood, and after that, I hope to see my _boyfriend, _who, thank god, isn't sprouting horns yet. Got it?"

He nodded blankly, and I let go of his shirt, pushing him backwards harder than I intended. Sprawling, he fell into a rack of clothes, sending 50% off bras and panties tumbling onto his forehead. 

Cindy scurried over to clean up the mess more than help him, but shook her head and gave me a friendly smile as I left. "He got it, boo," she said, and I headed out the door. 


	46. Keep on Praying

It was still raining outside when I got onto my bike and pulled away from the building. Unfortunately, with the rain, it made riding a little bit more difficult than I would've liked. For starters, my face shield on my helmet would fog up from my hot breath, and I'd have to wipe away the condensation before continuing on. Yes, I could have taken off the helmet, for it wasn't like I needed it anyhow. 

But, back in California, my friends and I used to race down the streets. The streets of California were much better for riding than those of Seattle, but no matter. Anyhow, one night, a friend of mine that I'd had since kindergarten decided that he wasn't going to wear his helmet for whatever the reason. Probably thought he was "too cool" to have such safety features. The rest of us thought that was all fine and dandy, so we didn't wear ours. As you may have figured out by this time, things didn't go all fine and dandy. 

On our usual riding route, construction had taken place. Cool, we thought, more obstacles to jump over. So we jumped right over the signs and guardrails. 

When that specific friend of mine jumped over a guardrail, his front tire landed in cooling asphalt that still had the texture of gravel. The tire couldn't get enough grip to complete the jump. His back tire spun out from underneath him, causing the entire bike to go sideways. It skidded up against a brick building before coming to a rest. By this time, his skull was cracked and brain damage was inevitable.

The doctors later said that if he had been wearing his helmet, he might have survived. His parents were forced to pull the plug on his life support and let him die, knowing that his vegetable condition would never change. 

So, because of that freak incident, I always wear my helmet. I'm not going to start talking all safety patrol officer here because I'm not. Really, the situation with the bike helmet and I is no different than Mom being gun-shy. That's all there is to it. 

Arriving at Logan's penthouse, I sighed with relief upon seeing that Mom's bike wasn't out in front. Had that been so, I would've insanely started to freak. 

But, I headed on up anyhow, knowing that Mom might have walked if she thought that that would work. 

When I got to Logan's door, I knocked, attempting to be polite while hanging onto the last shred of sanity I had, even though I had already noticed that it was unlocked. 

"Who is it?" he called from behind the door as his heavy footsteps padded across the wooden floor.

"Alanza."

The door swung open, and there he stood, clutching the door with his worn fingers. His hair was wet, like he had just got out of the shower, and he wore a pair of flannel pajama pants and long sleeved flannel shirt to match. 

Seeing my perplexed look at his clothing, he grinned, embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout this. I-I just got out of the shower."

"I see."

"Here, come on in. You don't need to go waiting out in the doorway," he offered, opening the door all the way as he stepped back. Despite being able to walk, his feet were still foreign objects to him. It was obvious that this was a man who hadn't walked in a long time.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked me, stepping out of the living room and into what was probably his bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed, so please make yourself comfortable."

I sank slowly down onto the couch that I laid on after giving him blood only a day or two before. Wow. Time sure traveled fast.

"Have you seen Mom?" I called back to him.

"Max?"  
"Yes."

"No. Why? I thought she was sick."

I immediately felt my face burn, knowing that I was going to have to lie to him-again-about Mom. "She thought she needed some fresh air. Apparently, the fever was causing her to go a little delusional."

"Is she ok?"

"Should be. But I still need to find her," I explained.

"Sorry, Alanza, I haven't seen her."

I rose to my feet and brushed off my pants. "Well, sorry to bother you from your…er… shower. I have to keep moving."

Logan came out of his bedroom, dressed in black slacks and a red button-up shirt. He was still finishing buttoning it when I had reached the door ready to leave. "Alanza?" he called from behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning back around to face him.

"Tell Max I hope she feels better."

I smiled, although I was lying through my teeth the entire time. "I'll make sure to do that."

"Thanks."

Leaving the apartment, I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad that Mom wasn't at Logan's penthouse. Sure, it was one male that I didn't have to worry about anymore. But, there were still another hundred to go that she could be with. And, I had to keep on praying that one of those males weren't Dad. 


	47. Girl on the Motorcycle

The city of Seattle was finally beginning to come alive. It made sense that nothing would be happening in the early hours of the day anyhow. All the party people with hangovers would still be in bed. I briefly wondered how Max was doing. Hopefully, she would be ok. She couldn't die on me now. 

As I rode down the streets at a fairly modest pace due to the fact that I had to ride behind pokey traffic, I realized that I needed to start looking for a job. Mom was probably going to start working at the clothing store with Cindy so that would help to pay the bills. Of course, Dad wouldn't stick around long enough for a job.

Neither Mom nor I knew the real reason behind his staying for fifteen years. I assumed that he felt guilty about what had happened-i.e. me. And, after having a little infant like me, Mom just couldn't go back to work and leave me alone. So, perhaps that was why Dad stayed; he could help support Mom financially and try to make up for what he did.

Of course, we all knew that it wasn't really his fault that I was created. It wasn't Mom's either. It was Donald Lydecker's. But, he was dead and couldn't be punished for what he had done. I, of all of the people in my family, had wanted to show him. Show him what his little experiment had created. If I ever saw him again, I would walk right up to him and start screaming. Screaming that I was a freak on legs, that my life was horribly screwed up from my stupid seizures to the cat hair, with everything in between, that my parents never wanted a kid together, and that he had basically dropped a whole lot of shit in the wrong spot. Then, after I got done screaming, I'd probably punch him in the nose and let him bleed to death. 

Ok, so that would never happen, but there were the days when my genetics got to me so badly that I wished he was still alive.

Mom and Dad had never had the best couple relationship. It wasn't that they outright hated each other, because they didn't. But they didn't love one another like a mother and father should. I only saw my parents kiss twice. The first time was when I was ten, and Mom had a miscarriage from one of her "heat flings". She was crying terribly with blood on the floor all around her, and Dad was doing his best to comfort her, (which, in truth, wasn't a whole lot). So, he kissed her on the cheek and whispered some supporting words to her and that was that.

The second time was when Dad decided to walk out after fifteen years. By this time, my relationship with him was mostly developed into that of, "if you don't bother me, I won't bother you, and we'll get along just fine". Anyhow, he told Mom that he had to leave, but she didn't entirely understand why. Maybe her intellectual head did, but her heart certainly couldn't. But, just before he left, they gave each other a real, true, kiss, and he disappeared. 

Personally, I don't think Mom has ever forgiven him for leaving like he did. When you spend a decade and a half with somebody, you usually don't bail "just like that". But, Dad did.

As I turned a corner behind a slow moving sedan, I caught out the corner of my eye, two men and a lady walking down the street. They were loaded down with shopping bags and moving with swift, lengthy gestures, attempting to contain all the power their bodies held.

I pulled out of traffic to the sidewalk where they were. "Hey," I called as they approached me.

They ceased their chatting and noticed the girl on the motorcycle for the first time. Syl and Krit both smiled, while Dad asked, somewhat confused as to why I would be right there suddenly, "'Lanzie?" 


	48. Rhetorical Question

Syl approached me first, her hands carrying two gigantic shopping bags from who knew where. I didn't think that Seattle had any fine department stores. I mean, from what I had seen, the pulse had basically wiped everything out. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked me. "I thought you were on a date."

"I _was_," I countered. "But, Mom decided to escape from her place and now I'm on a 'mom-hunt'."

Krit stepped forward, having overheard my conversation with Syl. "Sorry, Alanza. We haven't seen her."

"Well, it's not Syl I'm worried about. It'd be you guys."

Krit looked confused for a moment, then it registered. He nodded curtly, understanding what I was getting at, but didn't say anything more. 

That's when Dad came up to me. He looked slightly angry, but like I've said before, he didn't intimidate me in the least. 

"'Lanza, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for the nearest female in heat. Seen any lately?" I asked him wryly.

"I haven't seen Max, if that's what you mean."

"'If that's what I mean'," I laughed. "You know what I mean, Dad. So, don't try to weasel around it."

"I wasn't," he bit.

"We haven't seen her," Syl said to me. "Do you think she could've gone home?"

"Possibly, but I'm not putting too much faith into that." I sighed heavily and ran my right hand through my hair because it was most likely mussed and frizzy from being inside my helmet. "As long as she's not with these two," I told her, nodding my head in Dad's and Krit's direction, "we should be ok."

"Why these two?"

"Two X5s together equals something like me. And, I'm not looking forward to having any little half siblings any time soon."

"I see," Syl replied, chewing on the corner of her lip where the fire hadn't scarred it. She paused, then handed one of the bags to me. "Look, we all went shopping and there's some new clothes for you and Max 'cause I heard that you two just arrived in Seattle. I know it's not a lot, but hopefully, it'll help make up for the stuff you had to leave behind in California."

Before answering her, I glanced back over to Dad, knowing that he had told them what Mom and I had been up to. Like always, he didn't make eye contact with me, and I just hoped that he didn't tell too much. 

"Thanks," I smiled. "I'll be sure to get these home right away."

"Well, if you can't get them on your bike, then I can come over later."

"I should be ok." Seeing that she held another bag, I asked, "What's in the other one?"

"Clothes for Zack," Krit replied with a mischievous grin.

"How did you…?" I began.

"Long story," Dad grumbled.

I smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to see you finally will ditch the leather jacket ruffian look," I told Dad.

"Did I say that? They may have gotten the clothes, but who said that I was going to wear them?"

"You're way too stubborn."

"I try."

For the first time, I saw Dad laugh slightly, along with Krit and Syl. It was weird, actually to know what they really were and what they had been through, and watching them laugh. They had lived a life that I could only visit in my nightmares. A life of containment cells and guns in their faces. A life without questions, but full of fears. A life where the weak fall and the strong survive. 

"Look," Syl told me, slowing the giggles, "Let me ride home with you. I don't want you getting into any accidents with that bag."

"I won't."

"No," she protested, acting like a typical mother. "I'll get on the back and hang onto the bag."

"You ever ridden a motorcycle?" I asked her.

"'Lanza," Dad began. "Just because she's ridden a motorcycle doesn't mean that she can handle your driving."

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

Syl patted Dad's shoulder reassuringly before swinging a leg over the motorcycle as I inched my way forward on the seat so that she could have some more room. "I'll be ok, Zack. I'm pretty sure your daughter can drive better than you."

"Ooohhh!" Krit exclaimed and elbowed Dad, laughing as he did so. "What an insult!"

Dad just rolled his eyes and crossed him arms, a wry smile planted on his face. 

"Let's get going, girl," Syl said to me as I handed her my helmet. Better for me to smash my head open than her. 

I pulled away from the curb, waving curtly to Dad and Krit. "You think they'll be ok by themselves?"

Syl laughed as the wind whipped through her golden curls. "Is that a rhetorical question?"


	49. Stay Away Much Longer

How Syl managed to hang onto both the shopping bag and me, so that she could stay on, was truly amazing. Yes, I know that people have two arms, but a lot of people would have fallen off in such a position. But, as Brin said the first time we met, "…I'm not most people…"

God, could she have been more right?

Arriving at the apartment building, I noticed that Mom's motorcycle was sitting out by the curb. At first, a feeling of pure exhilaration spread over me, thinking that everything was perfectly all right. Mom had just gone home after working with Original Cindy. No big deal. 

But, I knew I was wrong when I remembered that Mom _never_ parked her bike out in front of our apartment. I mean, never. Not even in California. The bike was usually taken inside so it didn't get stolen or put in an alley where gangs would be less likely to see it.

Obviously, either Mom had needed to get home quickly for some unexplained reason, or this wasn't Mom.

Syl, noticing my confusion, asked if I was ok.

I nodded blankly, trying to wipe away the doubt that clouded my mind. "Yeah…I'm fine," I mumbled.

"You sure?"

"Let's just get up to the apartment," I told her.

Agreeing with me, she pulled the shopping bag off my motorcycle's seat and clutched it tightly in her right hand. She stared up at the massive building and sighed. I could swear she was muttering some kind of prayer to a blue lady to help Mom. But, I couldn't be completely sure.

The door to our apartment was slightly ajar, opened a crack to expose the innards of our room. I pushed the door open with my hip and entered. Syl followed, not far behind. 

I set my keys down on the kitchen counter and paused, listening for any disturbances. The flowers that Logan had sent were still in their original spot, but I noticed that the card was on the countertop, its envelope ripped open as though the person had been in a frenzy.

Mom had indeed come this way. 

Syl put the shopping bag down on the couch gently, as though she didn't want the paper to make any noise that would disturb the stark silence. She raised her hand to her hat, as if to remove it, but stopped and lowered her hand back down to her side.

Quickly, I checked Mom's bedroom that she shared with Original Cindy. The bed was made perfectly-not a wrinkle in the entire blanket. If she hadn't been unable to overcome her heat urges, at least she had done it here. 

I exited her room, passed by a nervous looking Syl, and entered Dad's room, once Mom's. Nothing was out of the norm there. I was almost a little irritated that something wasn't wrong. For, if something had been wrong, then I could've at least began to attempt and fix it. 

That's when I heard it. 

Dashing over to the bathroom, I pressed my ear against the door and heard the low crying. 

Mom!

The door wasn't locked, so I gently pulled it open, unsure of what I would find. Syl came up from behind me and rested a supporting hand on my shoulder.

Mom was sitting on the toilet, with her knees pulled tightly up to her chest. Her head was resting in her arms as her entire body shook with sobs. With her wet hair, I could see that she had just gotten out of the shower. Also, the steam in the room and the dripping showerhead, made that a definite. 

The room was eerie feeling. A single bare bulb hung in the center and made such stark shadows that it reminded me of a horror movie. Steam from the shower curled up and around, like claws of the monsters in the movie. 

I stepped forward, feeling such a strong compassion for Mom that tears formed in the corners of my eyes.

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice choked.

She looked up slowly, her eyes red and bloodshot from crying. "Oh God…Alanza." With her right hand forming a tight fist, she wiped away the tears and began to turn away from me like a stubborn child. 

I knelt down beside her, assuming the motherly role instead of her this time. Still in my street clothes, I felt strangely out of place in the bathroom. 

"God, Alanza, you shouldn't see me like this…" she began, trying to push me away.

"No, no, don't worry about it. It happens to the best of us," I told her. "It" of course, being going into heat.

Syl stepped forward. "Max?" she asked as I turned around to see her.

"Who are…"

Syl removed her hat and for the first time I saw the scars. The scars of the fire. They were twisted, pulling at her eye as if ready to bring it down into her skull. Pink and jagged, they extended from her balding hairline to the end of her nose. The eye itself was partially white and little bit of blue showed through it. No wonder she was blind in that eye. 

Mom rose to her feet, gently pushing past me. "Syl. You came," she stated and rushed to the other woman.

Opening her arms to Mom, Syl smiled as they embraced for the first time in eighteen years. "Do you really think I could stay away much longer?"


	50. Go Through Menopause

Mom rested her wet head on Syl's shoulder and smiled faintly, despite the tears dripping from her eyes. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Syl stroked the back of Mom's head, combing the matted mess into individual strands of dark hair, while carefully clutching the hat in the same hand. Her other hand rested on Mom's shoulders, trying to offer her the support Dad had denied her. "I thought the very same thing, Max."

Mom stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked down at her clothing-a faded bathrobe most likely borrowed from Cindy-and laughed slightly. "If I knew you were coming, I would've changed."

"No need to," Syl replied with a wave of her hand.

"Here," Mom said, motioning Syl out of the bathroom. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"No thanks."

I rose from my crouching spot beside the toilet and followed the two older women out into the main part of the apartment. Making myself comfortable on the couch, I watched carefully, searching for any clues that might let me know more about my aunt and, of course, Mom.

Syl sat down on the barstool tentatively at first, then allowed herself to completely sink down into it. She watched Mom carefully, trying to know answers to the questions she had not yet asked. Mom still stood on the other side of the countertop, fixing herself something to drink.

"Max?"

"Yes?" Mom replied turning around as she stirred a steaming drink. Her eyes were still red and bloodshot from crying, but at least her hair looked better.

"Are you ok?" Syl asked, leaning forward in the stool.

"I-I'm fine."

"Max," Syl cooed. "You don't have to hide it anymore." 

Mom sat her quivering coffee mug down on the countertop before it dropped to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces. She stared blankly at the ground, unsure of what to say. "It's always the same…" she murmured. "Always the same."

"What do you mean?"

Mom looked directly up at Syl. Both of them either didn't notice or didn't care that I was there. "Manticore. I've been away for…what? About thirty years now?" Syl nodded in response to Mom's question, but didn't say anything. She knew better than to interrupt when Mom was spilling her feelings. "And it still controls me." Mom clenched her fist tightly, brandishing it in the air. "Like this. Makes me feel... like no matter what I do or how far I run I can never get away from them. Never."

"It could be worse."

"How? How, Syl?"

"What about your daughter?"

"Alanza? Why?" Mom asked, talking about me as if I wasn't even there. It was slightly humorous in a way to see them discussing me.

"She grows cat hair everyday. Cat hair, Max. Think about it. How bad could her heat cycles be?"

Mom shook her head reluctantly, not wanting to admit it. "They're pretty bad."

"Pretty bad?" Syl echoed.

"Very bad."

"Now, I understand that we have a pretty crappy life when it comes to those heat cycles, but we survive-don't we?"

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"That we have to go out and…and…_screw_ some guy just so it will be over with," Mom vehemently spat.

Syl nodded. "Yes, yes. I mean, having feline DNA and everything will do that to a person."

"I only wish there was some way for it to end."

Syl sighed, "Sorry, none that I know of."

Looking up, Mom grinned wryly. "Do cats go through menopause?" 


	51. This Broken City

Syl left shortly after explaining to Mom how she had survived the fire and why she came back to Seattle. I barely listened to the entire conversation-mostly because I had already heard it before-and stuck to staring out the window. 

By this time, the rain had ceased, leaving only muddy puddles as evidence that it had been there at all. Puddles for children to play in with their little yellow dump trucks, and puddles for adults to scoop water out of and wash over their scruffy faces because they were far too poor to afford bath water.

Slowly, I turned away from the window, feeling my heart tear for the people that had so much less than I did. And _I_ thought I was bad off.

Mom was standing off to the side of the kitchen countertop, staring off into space while she clutched a coffee mug between her pale fingers. Her hair was still wet and made tiny puddles on the floor below. She should wrap it up or something. Otherwise, we were going to have mildew on the floor. Not something I looked forward to when I woke up.

I rose stiffly to my feet as my knees cracked and walked over to Mom. I wasn't exactly sure what to say because Syl had made all of it rather clear-the heat cycles would never stop. Yes, it was part of us, always had been and always would be. 

And like Syl had said, Mom's heat cycles weren't nearly as bad as mine. 

I could go into detail here about how terrible and vicious the cycles were to both my body and my mind, but I'll save that for a later date. Let's just say that I had accidentally sprained my mom's arm in an attempt to get away from her while she was trying to restrain me. I didn't even realize I hurt her until later on when my mind was fully cleared. 

Crappy genetics.

I was about to say something to Mom, when the phone rang. She looked up, seemingly coming out of her drugged up state and nodded for me to get it. Obediently, I picked it up.

"Hello?"  
"Can I speak to Alanza?" the other voice asked. 

"This is she."

"It's Max."

"Hey!" I cried, happy to hear from her. "How ya doin'?"  
She laughed slightly. "Better than I would've hoped."

"That's good to hear."

"Really," she muttered.

"So, what's up?"

"Ok, here's the deal, actually it's not a deal, but you get the point."

"Uh-huh."

"I was wonderin' if you'd like to go campin' this week. I mean, I don't got any school, and you're out too-right?"

"Yep," I replied.

"I mean, it'll give us a chance to talk and stuff…I know that sounds cheesy, but you get what I'm saying."

"Yeah, I've been wanting to talk about it, too."

"That's good…I guess."

"Is there a catch to all of this?" I asked her.

"Well, my boyfriend said he might be in that area."

"Might?"

"Might. He doesn't know for sure. He hasta ask his 'rent first." 

"Rent?" I echoed, not quite understanding what she was saying with her abnormal dialect.

"Parent."

"Ah."

"So, are you game?" she asked.

"Sure, what the heck. There's not a whole lot I can do around here anyhow."

"Cool. Just be sure to bring your sleeping bag and clothes. Usual stuff. I'll bring the tent along."

"So, do you want me to meet you at your apartment?"

"No, I'll come to yours."

"Thanks." I rattled off the apartment number to her, which she instantly memorized.

"See ya tomorrow?"

"Yep," I replied and hung up the phone. 

Mom turned towards me, having heard the conversation only from my side. 

"Who was that?" she asked, being a typical parent.

"Max. She wants to go camping for a couple days."

"Fine with me," she replied, even though I hadn't asked anything as she turned back to her coffee mug. "Might do you some good to get out of this broken city."


	52. Spoken Far Too Soon

Later that night, while I furiously trying to shove every piece of clothing I owned into my motorcycle case, the door to the apartment opened. 

Syl, who had arrived earlier in the evening, was already sitting and talking to Mom, while drinking coffee. I meanwhile, was faced with dilemma of if I should bring more pants than shorts on the trip with Max.

As the door opened, I snapped my head up and looked to see who had entered. Krit, followed by Dad, almost timidly entered the apartment.

"Zack!" Mom cried.

"Krit!" Syl cried as well. 

I, of course, said nothing, but shook my head, smiling secretly to myself. Thank God, Mom's heat cycles were over. Otherwise, it was going to be war. 

"I figured it was safe to come back now," Krit admitted.

"Are you," Dad began, shoving his hands in the leather jacket's pockets. He was obviously uncomfortable asking about others' feelings. "Are you ok, Max?"

She glanced at Syl, then slowly moved her eyes over to Dad. "I'm fine, Zack. Just fine." 

He nodded curtly as if that was the answer he had been expecting. Krit walked over to where Mom and Syl sat. Dad grabbed two coffee mugs and filled with them either with tea or coffee, I couldn't be sure. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched them carefully, because I didn't want them to know that I was indeed watching and listening to them all the time.

"Odd family reunion-isn't it?" Syl asked as she laid her hand over Krit's.

"Most definitely," Krit agreed.

"All we're missing is Brin," Mom said.

"No," Syl protested. "Brin never was one of us."

"Yes, she's always been one of us. She's here, in Seattle," Mom told her.

"In Seattle?" Dad echoed in disbelief.

"Yes, that's what I said, Zack. Alanza saw her the other night…" Immediately, with the mention of my name, all four heads twisted in my direction. I snapped my attention back to packing and pretended that I hadn't heard anything. "Anyhow," Mom continued. "She's not doing too well. I don't know how much longer she has."

"Who cares," Krit muttered angrily. 

"I care," Mom protested.

"All she ever did was become one of them!"

"No, that's not true. She wasn't completely brainwashed. Lydecker had her under his control. If she had left, she would have died without medical attention-"

"Like she is now," Syl stated.

"Exactly," Mom agreed. "She's not evil. She's too strong for that. We all are."

Krit sighed. "I wish I could believe you, Maxie, but it's hard."

"Too hard," Dad mumbled. 

"Look, guys, I know that it isn't exactly easy for you to accept. Yes, she went back and betrayed us all at some point or another. But, she's not like that anymore. She's changed. I mean, when I broke into Manticore to save all of you…a long time ago…she didn't kill me. She tried to get me to leave so _I _wouldn't get captured."

"I doubt it," Krit said.

"Ok, what about Zack? Remember? He was evil. Downright evil," Mom stated. I don't think she meant to be purposefully cruel against Dad, but she wanted to get her argument across. "You even said it yourselves, 'He's going to kill you'. Did he? Came close to it. But I'm here. And you're all here, too."

"All right, Maxie, you've made your point," Krit sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Maybe we were too judgmental on Brin after all." 

"He's right," Syl began. "That was almost twenty years ago. Things change over that amount of time."

"Everything changes," Mom stated. "So, no, this isn't a complete reunion. We need Brin here, too."

"And Jace," Dad said.

"Max Jr., too," Krit replied.

"Maybe Case is still around, as well," Syl told them. "Last I heard, Charlie and he headed for Europe to get away from everything."

"Wouldn't surprise me any," Mom answered. "I just wish everyone could have been here." Everyone, of course, meant those that had died in the fire twenty years ago, and those that had never even tasted such a freedom-Jack, Eva, and the rest. 

"They _are_ here," Dad stated, surprisingly putting faith in something that he was unable to witness. "Even if we can't see them."

"Ok, you two," Syl said to Mom and Dad. "Alanza should be included in the family reunion too. I mean, what's a reunion without some kids?"

"I'm not a kid, though," I protested.

Dad laughed. "All that's missing here is Lydecker. The man who created us all."

"Where is he, anyhow?" Krit asked.

"Dead," Dad responded.

"Dead?" Syl echoed hopefully.

"As far as I know, he is."

Mom raised her coffee mug as if in a toast. "Well, then, here's to the man who started it all and couldn't be here to relish in the finale of his creations."

They all clinked mugs and took a drink, as most people do when toasting one another. 

Standing up and hauling my case over to the opposite side of the couch, I instinctively shivered as goosebumps prickled over my skin. I though, must have been the only one who felt the cold breeze sweep through the apartment, for the rest of the adults continued their conversation. Gazing out into the night, I saw that the moon was full with heavy clouds gathered around it as a chill ran up my spine. And, I wondered if Mom had spoken far too soon. 


	53. Take Care of Yourself

The next morning was an absolute nightmare. I was up by six, so that I could be dressed and to go with Max by seven. From my apartment, we would travel anywhere from hour and a half to two full hours to the campsite that she deemed to be acceptable. 

By the time I was up, dressed and eating breakfast, Mom and Original Cindy had already left for work. Geez, I thought to myself, _how_ early do they have to leave? 

A note was on the counter from Mom saying that she hoped that I would have a good time and to call her if anything went wrong-the phone number was also included in the note. She left two ten-dollar bills, in case "I needed anything". Folding the bills up and shoving them into my back pants' pocket, I smiled. Thanks Mom.

I thought I was the only one in the apartment, which made getting ready easier. You don't have to worry about modesty when you're the only one there-i.e. slurping cereal and burping rudely. 

But, I was mistaken.

Just as I pouring myself a bowl of old cereal that was most likely pre-pulse because it was so stale, Dad exited his, used to be Mom's, room. 

He was still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that were both mussed and wrinkled. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he yawned loudly and strode out into the kitchen, barefooted. His fading blond hair was strewn all over his head, and I suppressed laughter at the sight of it. 

"'Morning, Dad," I chirped, trying to overcome both my excitement from going with Max and my shock of seeing him. 

Plopping down at the table across from me, he rested his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. At least that caused his hair to look somewhat better. "'Mornin' 'Lanzie," he grunted, still not fully awake. 

"Didn't sleep well?" I asked wryly.

"Late night," was all he said before raising his head to look at me. Carefully, he studied me and noticed that I wasn't dressed in pajamas, like I normally would've been. "You goin' somewhere?" he asked.

"Yep. Up north with Max."

"Max?"  
"Jace's daughter. We've already been through this, remember?"

"No. When did you say you were going camping? Does Max know?"

"Yes, Mom knows. And, no, I did not tell you I was going camping because I was afraid that you wouldn't let me go."

He laughed under his breath as he shook his head and wiped his hand over his mouth. I saw that the facial hair that he had tried to grow out when he had first arrived was gone and in its place was just a bunch of fuzz. Syl and Krit must have made him shave. Interesting.

"'Lanza, y'know, I can tell you that I don't want you to do something until I go hoarse, and you'll still do it."

"Take after you too much-don't I?" I asked with a slight laugh.

"Far too much."

I leaned forward as if we were in a room full of people that I didn't want overhearing us. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" he mumbled. I was beginning to wonder if the coffee wasn't spiked, and he had a hangover. He sure acted like it.

"Remember what you said? About Lydecker being dead…in Phoenix and everything?"

He nodded blankly and slowly lifted his eyes off the table and set them on me. 

"Are you sure he's dead?"

"Definitely. Why?"

"I-I just got this feeling last night," I stuttered, knowing that he was probably going to dismiss it as "just a bunch of b.s" as I leaned back in my chair so that there was once again space between us.

"Alanza, if his ghost is buggin' you…"

"No, no, it's not like that."

"Yes, he's dead. Dead as a doornail. I saw the body with my own eyes. It was him. Most definitely."

"I don't know, it's just kinda odd that there isn't somebody evil out there chasing after us."

"Better that way. Besides," he continued, "sometimes we always can't see everything that's after us."

"Good point," I told him as I rose to my feet so that I could clean out my cereal bowl. 

"Alanza?" he asked as he too, stood up. 

"Yeah, Dad?"

"When you get back, I…I probably won't be here."

"You're leaving?" I cried in disbelief as I twisted around to face him. 

"Mm-hmm."

"But why? Lydecker's dead. You got a family here. Us! Krit, Syl, Brin, Max Jr.…they're all here!"

"I know that," he acknowledged.

"What about Mom?"

"Look, Alanza," he began, glanced away at the floor, then back at me before continuing, "I may be your dad, and she may be your mom, but we won't ever be like…like…y'know…"

"Lovers?"

He nodded mutely. "We got mixed up together by mistake…no offense."

"None taken," I responded.

"She…Max… has someone that she loves. And it's not me-"

"Don't you still love her?"

"Of course I have. I always will. Just because I leave doesn't mean that I stop."

"Then why leave at all?"

"It's the way I've always lived. I'm not about to change after forty years. What would the point to that be?"

I stepped forward, trying to fight the tears from invading my eyes. Why did I think he would change? Why did I choose to believe in such foolishness? Why? God, now it was coming back to bite me. 

Normally, I just would've shrugged and let him leave like he had all those other hundred times, but this was different. I truly, _truly_ thought that he would stay this time. And that we really would be a family-for once in my life. "Are you coming back?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"I should be back."

"But you've only been here…what? Two days?"

"Yes. Look, Alanza, staying cooped up like this…it isn't me." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Dad didn't like confessing his feelings-even with his own daughter. "Reminds me too much of the cells in Manticore," he muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Long time ago. Just a weakness."

I was about to say something when I heard a honking horn from down below. "That'd be my ride," I told him, hurrying into the living room area. 

"Take care of yourself," he called from the kitchen as I grabbed my coat and threw it on. My hand was on the door handle, prepared to leave, when I turned back around and dropped my case and rolled-up sleeping bag on the couch again. 

I rushed towards him and hugged him fiercely. He stiffened under the gesture, but soon allowed his arms to wrap around me as well. Resting my head on his shirt, I inhaled deeply, taking in his warm scent. God, why couldn't he just stay?! Just be normal for once? Why, oh why did he have to leave and caused everything to fall into chaos? 

I backed away and struggled to contain my tears. Picking my case and sleeping bag back up, I grinned wryly, trying to be strong like I knew he would want me to be, despite the tears coating my eyes. "No," I told him, "_You _take care of yourself."


	54. In the Forehead

Even before I had stepped into Max's tiny Dodge Neon, I could feel the booming bass beneath my feet. I rolled my eyes, but smiled because she was so goofy like that that I had to smile at her. 

Upon seeing me approaching, she got out of the car, turned down the radio, and greeted me. "'Lanza!" she cried and grinned widely.

"Hey, Max," I answered, although not nearly as exuberantly. I swear, she had to drink pure caffeinated coffee every morning-or something with caffeine-because she was always so dang hyper.

"Here," she offered, grabbing my sleeping bag out of my hands before I could protest. "Justa throw it in the trunk here."

The trunk itself was already crammed full with food, blankets, bags and other miscellaneous things. Max laid the sleeping bag down on top and pushed on it with her knee so that it would fit. I, though, was having my doubts. Matter takes up space, and there was way so much matter would fit in such a little space.

"Uh…Max? Are you sure everything can fit in there? Maybe we should just put it in the car."

"In the car?" she echoed. "My car's so little, you ain't gonna fit a whole helluva lot in it."

"Well, this trunk…"  
"Trunk, shmunk. We're gonna make it all fit. Now git your knee and push."

Eventually after pushing and cramming until my fingers were feeling the onset of blisters, we were able to close the lid with a satisfactory "click". Max grinned widely and rested her hands on her hips. "See, what'd I tell ya?"  
Inside the car, I was forced to agree with Max on its size. I had to slide my passenger seat back as far as it would go due to my long legs. Even then, I knew that I was going to be getting vicious cramps. 

The radio, fortunately, was turned down as we pulled away from the curb, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't going to stay that way for long. Probably Max just thought she was being polite by not blowing my eardrums out for the first few seconds of our drive-and I certainly appreciated it.

"Wave g'bye," Max told me as we entered onto the road.

"There's no one home."  
"No one?"  
"No one that will be watching me," I answered.

"Sorry," she apologized. 

"Why?"

"I just feel bad that you got stuck all alone in your 'partment this mornin'." 

"Here," I laughed. "I'll wave for you anyhow." So, I turned around and waved goodbye to whoever was up there. I expected to see just the blank apartment building staring back. But, instead, I saw Dad's shadowy figure up in the window, looking down at me. I said nothing to Max and just pretended that the apartment and I were the only ones who shared a fond farewell.

"Can I turn the radio up? That is, if you don't mind," Max asked me.

I shrugged. "Sure, what are you listening to?"

"Act'ly, it's a CD…old, pre-pulse rock."  
"Pre-pulse?" I echoed. Most of the pre-pulse stuff I had listened to was…well, _interesting_ music.

"Yep. The best kind of music."

"What's wrong with modern music?" I asked her.

"Nuthin'. But, it's just that…how do I say it?"

"You have a deeper, more spiritual connection to past rock n' roll music?" I offered along with some sarcastic wit.

"Exactly!" she laughed. "So, can I turn it up?"

"Go ahead."

She leaned forward, taking her eyes off the road for only a second before flicking them back to their original position. With careful precision, she turned the volume up so that we could both hear it clearly and talk over it without having our ears blown up.

"Who is this?" I asked, pointing to the CD player.

"Three Doors Down."

"Huh? See Whole Clowns?" I couldn't understand her because she was singing along and the wind was blowing in through the open window, garbling her voice even more. Besides, pre-pulse singers had weird enough names as it was. I only figured that See Whole Clowns had to be one of the more original groups.

Max laughed again and rolled up the window. "No, Three Doors Down," she told me, carefully annunciating the words. "Here, listen," she offered as she cranked the volume up some more. 

The words were almost depressing in a way, but the upbeat music caused you to forget what the singer was trying to say. "If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman/If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand/I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might/Kryptonite" I didn't understand any of it, which bothered me greatly. I liked understanding things and when I was unable to do so, it irritated me.

"I don't get it," I admitted to Max.

She sighed and ran a hand through her braids. "Do you know who Superman is?"

"No."

"Well, there's your problem right there."

"How so?" 

"Kryptonite and Superman. They're…good god, I can't believe I'm explainin' about a pre-pulse ac'tin figure."

"I've heard worse."

So, for a good half an hour, Max told me everything that she knew about Superman and this thing called Kryptonite. And when she was done, I didn't understand the song any better. In fact, I was more confused than I had been in a long time.

"Look," I told her. "How do you know all of this?"

"Pre-pulse is my specialty."

"You make it sound like a cooking dish."

Max grinned wryly and glanced over at me. "I understand that time better. Now…it's just confusin'."

"Well, if you explain pre-pulse to me, I'll explain post-pulse to you."

"Good deal."

By this time, the CD had moved forward and onward to another song. "Here, see if you can understand this one."

"And if I don't?"

"We already know that lyrics _aren't_ yourspecialty, so it'll be forgotten."

"Thank you."

I listened to the song and the whirring guitar sounds and this time, I actually grasped the meaning of the words…more than I would've liked to. "This world can turn me down but I won't turn away/And I won't duck and run, cause I'm not built that way/When everything is gone there is nothing there to fear/This world cannot bring me down/No, 'cause I'm already here, oh no"

Max glanced over at me as we plodded through the forests outside of the city of Seattle. "You ok?" she asked, watching my placid face.

I pointed at the radio. "It's me."

"Huh?"

"Listen."

She did and nodded approvingly. "See, Alanza? These rock people…they did understand."

"But no, that's the thing. It's like they're talking right to me. Sure, the world, if it knew about me, would turn me away because I'm such a…a…" I stammered.

"Freak?" Max offered.

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically.

"That's what I've been called…" I looked over at Max to read her emotions, but she wouldn't look at me. "But, we'll get to that later…there's a long car ride ahead."

"Anyhow," I continued, "just because people may hate me because of who I am, I refuse to turn away from them. And when everything _is_ gone, there is, indeed, nothing left to fear."

"You're taking the words too seriously."

"At least I understand," I laughed.

"Yes, 'Lanzie dear, at least you understand."

The drive to the campground was quiet except for the continued beat of the music. Finally, as it began to rain, Max spoke. "Remember what I said about being called a freak?"

"Uh-huh."

"It was a long time ago…but I still see 'em. I told one of my friends…well somebody that I thought was my friend…and I wasn't the human they remembad. Freak." She bit down on her lip and didn't continue. I wouldn't ask her to either. "That was when I was attendin' summa college…got in wit the wrong crowd." Glancing over at me, she asked, "Have you eva told anybody?"

"Besides my parents? Well, they already knew…obviously. So, no."

She nodded. "It's easier when you're wit people who understand…or are like you."

"That's why we get along-isn't it?"

"Alanza," she sighed. "I've been searchin' for somebody to talk wit about this. So far, I've only found one another person."

"But that's the thing. Nobody else is composed of two X5s. Everyone I know is either an X5 or only has one parent X5. I've got two."

"Your mom named you well. You'll put it to good use." 

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Call it a fortune cookie sayin' from Max."  
Finally, the rain cleared and we arrived at the campsite. There were a few people setting up or taking down their tents. It seemed well enough.

Max drove slowly down a tiny dirt trail, which led farther back into the woods. I occasionally saw a person or two, but it was obvious that we were very much alone. Not that I minded it that way, though.

When we got to the place she deemed appropriate, she cut the engine and hopped out eagerly. I meanwhile, was struggling with rather severe cramps in my legs. Ouch. It took me awhile to get out and stretch to remove the knots.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a voice called, "Maxie babe!" She looked just as surprised as I did for a second before running off into the trees from where the voice came from. I was still confused and hurried off to follow her just in case she needed help.

I saw her chatting to a guy that must have been her boyfriend that probably would've met us up here. Apparently, he did manage to make it away from his parent. "Alanza," Max said to me, "I'd like you to meet-"

She stopped short as another person came through the trees, carrying a heavy hiking backpack. My eyes widened and nearly popped right out of my sockets. "James?!" I cried, ignoring the cramps in my legs.

"Alanza?"

"What are you _doing _here?" I asked him.

Max smacked herself in the forehead. "I should've seen this before. Alanza, meet James, who, _you're _dating, and his best friend-_my_ boyfriend-Case."


	55. Gets Dunked

There was a moment of stilled silence when the only thing that I could hear was the chirping of the birds, and the distant voices of other campers. Case was everything I had imagined him to be-and more. Mom had told me all that she knew about him and everything fit the description perfectly. (Actually, Dad had told her about Charlie and Case from his travelings, but that's a whole other story unto itself.) Case had dark black hair that was cut short and formed into perfect little spikes on his head. Wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a khaki green shirt, I could easily see that he worked out. His eyes were glittering and intense. If I had met him on the street in the middle of the night, I might have actually been afraid of him. But, now, in the sunlight, he appeared friendly and at ease. Yet, I must've been the only one to see the sadness Tinga's death had caused him. It was obvious he carried it with him everyday. Finally, he cleared his throat and extended his hand towards me. 

"Hello, Alanza. I don't believe we've met before."

I wanted to tell him that we'd met in more ways than he had ever imagined, but I figured it was my best bet to keep my mouth shut with James standing right beside us. Politely, I shook his hand and smiled. "Glad to meet you, Case."

Max, seeing that the ice had been broken, laughed, "I didn't plan on this being a couples' campin' trip!"

"Certainly got more than a little gathering in the woods-huh?" I asked her.

"Definitely," James agreed.

"C'mon," Case said, being the voice of reason, "let's get a spot." 

He and Max walked out in front, mostly because they seemed to be the unofficial leaders in our excursion into the unknown. James and I followed behind. 

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going up north?" he asked me.

"I was going to ask you the very same question."

"Well, you see, Case gave me a call when I got back from lunch yesterday. So, I called him back, and he asked me if I was willing to go up north for a bit. He didn't say that his girlfriend…or you…were going to be here, so I figured that it was just a 'guy trip'. I didn't have time to call you before I left because he picked me up right from work." He shrugged. "I guess I was planning on giving you a call from up here."

"There's phones?" I asked.

"Possibly. But Case has a cell phone. Unfortunately, on the trip up here, we didn't realize that the batteries were dead. So, now, his cell phone's in the car charging."

"I got a call from Max late last night. She said that her boyfriend _might_ be coming, but it wasn't a really good chance because he couldn't get away from his parent-"

"Charlie," James interrupted.

"Huh?" I asked, pretending not to understand. If it looked like I understood far too much, things could look suspicious. 

"Case's dad. Ever since his mom died, Charlie's been real protective of Case. Afraid that some guy's gonna come and take Case away. I think it's something to do with the government, but I'm not sure."

"What would the government want with Case?"

James paused, and I saw that he was thinking hard. Thinking hard of how to elude me. "Something to do with his mom. I believe she…worked for the government…and, uh, well, I don't know the full story. You'd have to ask Case himself."

I nodded, as if I really understood. I wasn't about to tell him that I knew that he was feeding me just another line of lies. 

"So, how long have you known Case?" I asked, but James failed to hear my question as Case and Max turned around to declare that "this was the spot".

It was a fairly secluded area. All around, trees rose high and wide, their branches creating a green lace quilt above my head. Off to my right, a trail led downhill to a lake, (or so Max said). A downed tree created the perfect barrier from any wild animals that could have crept up on us during the night.

James groaned and threw the heavy camping equipment off his back. Case followed suit and soon there were two piles of supplies on the forest floor. Max and I looked at each other and sighed. We still had to walk all the way back to our car to get our own stuff. 

"Hey!" Case called from behind us as we headed back. "Do you guys want to go swimming?"  
"Sure!" Max replied, speaking before I had a chance to. Case grinned, revealing perfect teeth that were whiter than I could've imagined. 

"Great. James and I will meet ya both up here."

Max gave him a thumbs-up, and we both scurried away to get dressed.

"Did you rememba to bring a suit?" Max asked me as she popped open the trunk. 

"Should've."

When the trunk opened, everything that we had brought went flying up into the air from being under so much pressure. I dashed over to grab my sleeping bag before it hit the ground. It landed in my arms and then, reaching out another long arm, I scooped my case out of the air before it pounded Max in the head.

She laughed, slightly embarrassed. I, though, spoke before she had a chance to do so. "At least it all fit."

Max and I took turns changing into our swimsuits inside of the Neon with its tinted windows. Max didn't seem the least bit shy as she left the windows half down and cranked the radio up, drawing attention to the car. She even sang along with it.

I meanwhile, waited around the back with the trunk lid up as I pulled the things out of the car. Good Lord, how much stuff did she think that we needed? Just a bit, obviously. 

I was in the middle of prying the folded up tent out of the trunk when Max emerged from the car. "How do I look?" she asked me, looking for approval on her outfit.

She wore an orange triangle bikini with magenta straps. On the orange part of the suit were tiny little tye-dyed swirls of yellow. Her hair was tied back even though it looked like it was about to spring all over the place-just like our trunk had done. 

I grinned before turning back to the tent. "If Case doesn't drop over, he'd have to be gay," I joked.

She laughed and elbowed me in the side playfully. "Get dressed yourself or else we're gonna miss swimmin'."

So, I dug around in my case to pull out my swimsuit that was in a plastic bag so if it got wet, it wouldn't leak all over my other clothes. 

Before getting dressed, I made sure that all the windows were rolled up tightly and that the radio was turned down. Just because Max wanted to showcase herself to the world didn't mean that I had to as well. 

When I came out of the car, I instinctively wrapped a towel around myself from the coldness. "It's freezing out here," I whined to Max.

"Oh, quit your grumblin'. Let me see your suit first, Miss California Surfer Girl."

I laughed and timidly lowered the towel. Wearing a suit that was indeed from California and that I did wear while surfing, I could only hope that it was appropriate. I wore boy-cut shorts, which gave me some modesty in the bottom, with a sport-bra like top. Both were a shimmery navy blue with silver racing strips.

Max grinned wryly. "To use your words, 'If James don't drop ova, he'd hafta be gay'."

We lugged the rest of our stuff up the hill where James and Case both waited, talking quietly to one another. Upon seeing Max and I, they rose to their feet and asked if we needed help with anything. 

"Nu-uh," Max replied and threw some luggage down on the ground.

"Ready?" Case asked no one in particular. He wore a pair of baggy green trunks with black stripes around the hems. James, on the other hand, settled for a pair of red trunks that were faded in some spots to appear pink-but not on purpose, of course. He noticed my observing and shrugged. "You don't go swimming a whole lot in northern Wisconsin," he admitted.

I laughed as I clutched towel to my body tighter. I wasn't taking off my towel until needed to.

"I'm gonna say it again, 'Ready'?" Case repeated.

"Last one to the water gets dunked!" Max screamed, and we all hurried down the hill. At least I knew that I wasn't going to the one who got dunked.


	56. Em-bare-ass-ment

Obviously, I was the first one down the lake. I didn't run as fast I could have because I didn't want James or Case getting any odd thoughts in their heads. Such as, "Hey, my girlfriend just ran down to the lake in less than two milliseconds, you think there might be something wrong with her?" Yep, that'd go over _real_ nice.

The lake was a fairly good-sized area of water. It was settled in the middle of a valley with tall trees and hills as a border. There were a few other people in the water, but not many, which was good. 

I sped down the hill, barefooted, as the grass poked up in between my toes. Without a moment's hesitation, I threw my towel on the ground and jumped off the edge of the pier. 

For a moment, everything was so dark and quiet, I believed myself to be unconscious. Yet, I quickly shook the feeling off and surfaced underneath the early afternoon sun, sending the water flying as I laughed gleefully.

Case was already standing beside the edge of the water, removing his worn leather sandals. In the background, I could see Max coming along, followed by James. 

I dog-paddled over the edge of the water and grinned up at Case. "Looks like James is the one getting dunked-huh?"

He glanced behind him and nodded slowly as if he had to think about what I was asking him. "Yep." Then he paused and looked closely at me, attempting to understand what he could not. "That was some run there. You made it down here pretty fast."

"Yeah I was in track at school," I told him. Then, before he could question me further, I added, "Also in the swim team." And with that, I plunged back underneath the water and disappeared from his view. 

From my position under the water, I could look up through the glassy surface and see Case standing above with Max slowly coming up to him. I wondered if she had told him about me. Most likely not. Even though she could be rude and ditzy sometimes, I don't think she would have betrayed such a secret without my permission. 

I waited under the cool water until I saw James approaching. Then, with a giant kick, I propelled myself out of the water and grabbed him by his ankles.

"Yaaahh!" he screamed in surprise as my cold hands made contact with his skin.

"Time to get dunked!" Max laughed.

Case came up behind James and grabbed James by his shoulders. "You want to plead for mercy?"

"Never!" James defiantly cried.

"Ok, Alanza! You got him!" Case told me. Then, he gave James a push, while I pulled him in. James flew over my head and landed in the water right behind me. He sputtered before surfacing and shaking his head to get the water of out his eyes. It was the second time I had seen him soaked since we started dating only yesterday. 

Case ran to the end of the pier, tucked his knees up and cannon-balled into the water. Meanwhile, James was sneaking up behind him and pushed his head under water as soon as Case surfaced. Both guys went underwater, spitting and laughing. Soon, I heard their playful screams as they challenged each other to an underwater duel.

Max was sitting on the edge of the pier, swinging her feet in the water in an utmost lazy matter when I swam up to her. "Having fun?" I asked her as we both watched the boys go at it.

She laughed. "Yeah."

"Max?"

"Hmm?"  
"Have you told Case about me?"

"No. Why?"

"I was just wondering," I admitted.

"Nope. Haven't told him nothin'."

"He's Tinga's son-isn't he?"

"Yep."

"That's what you meant when you said that you've only found one another person-right?"

"You're too smart, 'lanzie, girl."

"I try." At that moment, James and Case emerged from their underwater battle and swam up to us. 

"You want to play Chicken?" James asked us.

I looked at Max, shrugged, then back at James. "Why not?" 

We moved to a shallower end of the lake where James and Case could touch the bottom. Hesitantly, Max and I got on their shoulders as they danced around each other. "Don't you dare drop me," I warned James as we moved around the water, creating splashes. 

"I wouldn't dream of it. Unless of course, Max gets to you first." He tightened his grip around my ankles just for added security.

I laughed. "Let's hope not."

Max and Case came at us, ready to fight. She tried to push me off, but I stood…er…sat my ground. I wouldn't let her win. 

James headed back at Case, and I grabbed Max by the shoulder. "Hang on, James!" I told him. With a hard shove, I sent Max flying into the water with a splash, and Case toppled over right behind her. 

James laughed loudly and gave me a high-five. I raised my arms above my head in triumph and gave a war cry. "Great job, Alanza," he said to me. With that, I pushed myself off his shoulders backwards and landed in the water. 

I kept myself underwater long enough to make James forget that I was even there while he began to keep on the lookout for Max and Case. Most likely, those two were looking to get us back for winning the game. 

Hovering underneath the clear water for a minute-due to my increased lung capacity-I swam slowly up to James' ankles. Quickly I grabbed them and pulled him under. I heard his scream of protest and then he was facing me underneath the water.

From our position in the water, I pointed the Case and Max, both who were ignoring James and I at the time. I balled my hands into fists and made a jerking motion downwards, indicating for us to pull _them _under. James gave me a thumbs-up in the water, and we both began to breast stroke to our unsuspecting victims.

Fortunately, the water was clear enough that we could see their ankles without having our eyes being burned out from staying opened underneath the water. James and I were about three feet behind Case and Max when he glanced over at me for affirmation. I gave a curt nod, and we both pushed forward violently. 

There was a loud scream as Max tried to twist of out of my grip. I just pulled her down harder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James surfacing for air while Case swatted him and white froth spewed everywhere around them. Max was attempting to push me away and managed to do so because I wasn't trying that hard, and I came up for air. 

She glared at me, "What were you doing? Trying to kill me?"

"Trying," I replied sarcastically. We both burst into laughter. 

Meanwhile, James had wrapped his arms around Case as if in a poor bear hug, preventing Case from hitting him. "Let me go!" Case cried right before James pulled him under the water. There was a big splash, which was large enough to hit Max and I even though we stood a good distance away. Case's head appeared above the water, and he was frantically kicking his legs underneath the water. I could see James desperately hanging onto his friend's ankles so that Case too, would be forced underwater. There was another large splash and both of them disappeared.

"Boys," Max groaned.

"Will be boys," I finished for her. 

We swam over to the pier and crawled out of the water so that we could jump back in. 

I let Max go first. She entered the water with a perfect pike dive and there was barely a splash. Propelled by her powerful dive, she floated out to the middle of the lake where she surfaced and treaded water, grinning up at me. "C'mon, 'Lanza."

"I'm coming," I told her. I took a deep breath and ran off the end of the pier. At the very end, I pushed myself upward before curling into a tiny ball. Unlike Max, the entrance I made wasn't nearly as subtle. Water splashed everywhere. Even James and Case, who were standing on the sidelines, became more soaked than they already were. 

I came out of the water next to Max, and she grinned wryly at me. "Nice dive," she commented, but watched James and Case approaching the pier.

"I can only try," joked. 

James went before Case and walked very stoically to the end of the pier. He curled his toes over the worn wood and dived in with one powerful thrust. 

But when he entered the water, I must have been the only one to hear his outcry of, "Shit!" 

Confused, I was about to swim over to him to see if he had hit his head or something had happened to him, but stopped when I saw what was really wrong. 

A pair of red trunks with faded pink spots bobbed to the surface of the water-without anybody wearing them. James scurried over to try and capture his lost shorts, but they had floated over to the shore where Case was. Seeing his friend's distress, Case bent down and picked the trunks up. 

James, meanwhile, was sitting underneath the pier, his body as far underwater as he could get it. His hands were also underwater to provide some protection against anyone seeing him. 

"You want these back?" Case called to James.

"Very much so."

"Here then, I don't have much use for them." And with that, Case balled the trunks up and tossed them at James. They hit the water with a sickening splat, and James timidly went over and got them. He stood upright and slid them on. If I had wanted to, I would've been able to see his bare rear from my point of view. But, I figured the second date wasn't appropriate for that kind of intimacy.

We all swam for the rest of the afternoon until the mosquitoes grew so bad that we were forced to retreat back up to the camp. Wrapping my towel around my cold body, I began to walk back up the hill. James came running up to me and rested his arm around my cold shoulder. "You're so warm," I told him.

"I'm still burning from em-bare-ass-ment," he told me.

I pulled him closer and felt the heat radiating from his body. "Well in that case, you can stick with me for the remainder of the night, 'cause I'm freezing."


	57. Master of Disguise

Night came sooner than I had hoped. I wanted to spend the rest of the day talking with James and Max while playing under the sun. Although I may be a superhuman, I can't control the weather-it sure would be nice, though. (During Max's conversation about Superman, she also told me about these people called X-Men. They sound a lot like me with their mind-reading powers and all, but what would really be cool is to be the girl who can control the weather.)

The four of us gathered around the campfire Case had built and prepared to roast our dinners. We were all starving from not having lunch and exhausted from swimming. I couldn't wait until tomorrow.

James and Case had brought fat hotdogs that we stuck onto the end of green sticks and roasted over the fire. Max was busy talking to Case when she was roasting hers and ended up with a crunchy black thing that used to be a hotdog. Graciously, Case took it from her and traded his fairly good one. 

Max and I had brought the ingredients for making s'mores. Fortunately, our s'more making skills were far better than roasting hotdogs. Nobody burned theirs, but James accidentally dropped his in the fire. None of us were gracious enough to save it for him. We merely watched the marshmallows bubble and pop until the only thing left was a smoldering black chunk.

We rolled out our sleeping bags so that we were scattered around our camp area. Next to me, Max slept peacefully with a trickle of saliva forming at her left cheek while James snored lightly. Max's radio was still playing quietly.

I rose from my sleeping bag to turn it off when I saw Case sitting by the fire, his hands tucked up underneath his chin in an almost thoughtful manner with his back towards me. Forgetting about Max's radio, I walked over beside him and sat down on the massive log.

"Can't sleep?" I asked him, watching his golden face illuminated in the flames.

"Nope." 

"Same here." He was wearing his swimming trunks with the shirt that he had arrived in. I had changed back into my regular clothes due to the night chill. "Case?"

"Hmm?"  
"Can I ask you a personal question?"  
"Go ahead," he replied, still staring into the fire.

"Are you-don't think I'm crazy asking this-are you part X5?"

Slowly, he turned to look at me and studied my face for any trace of sarcasm or joking. When he found none, he answered a very solemn, "Yes."

"That's what I thought."

"How do you know?"

"My mom told me. Well, my dad told her, but never mind that."  
"What's her name?"

"Max."

"Max..." he pondered, then it clicked. "Yeah, my mom, Tinga, used to tell stories about her sisters and brothers before she left. Your mom was one of her favorite sisters."

"I'm sorry about your mom."

He smiled wryly, but it was a sad smile nonetheless. It was taking almost all of his willpower not to cry, so he resorted to shrugging Tinga's death off. "It was a long time ago."

"Doesn't make it hurt any less."

"No," he agreed. "It's doesn't."

"How long have you known James?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"James? For awhile, I guess. I've lived in Europe…France pretty much…for most of my life. Dad and I came back about two years and a half ago. I met up with James in college."  
"I'm assuming that's where you met Max, too."

He nodded. "At that crazy drug party. Has James told you about that?"

"Yeah, sounds like it was pretty bad."  
"Pretty bad is a rather harsh understatement. It was horrible, just plain awful. So," he said, changing the subject as he stretched. "I'm guessing that you're an X5 child."

"Times two," I replied, holding up two fingers.

"Times two?"  
"My parents are Max and Zack…both X5s."  
"Powerful people."

"I know," I answered.

"I've met your dad before."

"Really? He doesn't seem like the type that would show himself."

"It was after Mom died," Case began, but stopped as he choked up as he came right out and said it. I didn't ask him to continue, but simply waited until he felt strong enough that he could do so. "Sorry," Case apologized.

"It's ok."

"I just…"

"She was your mom, you have a right to cry."

"Yes," he reluctantly agreed. "But she didn't have a right to die the way she did."

"How did you find out?"  
"Your dad. He came and apologized to Dad for not saving her from 'the evil king'."

"Lydecker," I whispered.

"Yes, Lydecker. 

"Anyhow, Dad and I were still in Europe at that time, but your dad…Zack…came to us. He offered us money in repayment almost for Mom's death. He talked to me about Mom and Max and…you. Apparently, Max was still pregnant with you, but you hadn't been born."

"Yeah, he blitzed after Mom became pregnant. So, now I know where he went."

"Now you know," he repeated, then paused as he rubbed his bare arms, trying to warm himself. "He told me that there were others 'like me', and I could find them if I wanted to."

"And you did."  
He laughed slightly, turning back to the fire. "Yeah, ironic-isn't it? My girlfriend's one of those people along with my best friend's girlfriend as well."

"Poor James, he must feel pretty bad, knowing that he's left out like that."

"Oh. Well, he knows who I am."

"You told him?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. And, surprisingly, he took it pretty well. As well as could be expected anyway. He's a good guy."

"I know."

"Now, I'm not saying that you should get married to him or anything, but he'll treat you very well. Besides," Case shrugged, "he's got secrets of his own."

"Don't we all?"  
"Yes. Look, Alanza, if you ever want to get a hold of me or anything, I'll be there in a heartbeat. If things ever get crazy on you, that is."

"Thanks."

There was a pause as we listened to Max's CD, still playing. Another one of her _interesting_ rock stars, Goo Goo Dolls. When I told her that they sounded like a baby chew toy, she simply laughed her laugh and let it drop with a flip of her hair. "Alanza," she had said, "Rock stars in the pre-pulse times were all about being insane and flamboyant. That's how they got business." Then, she proceeded to tell me about some girl named Britney Spears and her strip tease show on something called MTV. I blocked out the rest of the conversation after that.

The CD sang on though and I couldn't block it out this time. "And I don't want the world to see me/'Cause I don't think that they'd understand/When everything's made to be broken/I just want you to know who I am."

"Strange song," Case remarked.

"That's because it's us…Crazy rock stars."

"It's far too true. When everything breaks, the world _will _know who you are."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling a shiver down my spine.

"You'll figure it out, eventually." He rose to his feet and stretched. "I'd better get to bed."

"Yeah, me too," I agreed.

Case walked over to his sleeping bag and prepared to lie down in it. "Thanks for talking," he told me.

"No problem." I paused, then asked, "Case?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell James," I said, referring to my heritage.  
"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Thanks."

"You know that Lydecker is dead don't you? That means we're finally free of being chased around the globe," I told him, assuming that since he had been over in Europe he wouldn't have heard of Lydecker's fortunate death.

He waited before answering me, and I was unable to see his face in the shadow streaked night, "Alanza," he whispered gravely as if there were people in the forest listening in on us, "the evil king is a master of disguise."


	58. Done it on Purpose

Approximately one month later:

When I had gotten home from that camping trip, Dad was indeed gone. Mom said nothing about his absence, and I wasn't about to start up the conversation either. It was probably better that way. He'd be back soon enough. Unfortunately, there would still be that hole inside of me that I couldn't fill with anything until he was back.

Charlie and Case eventually came around to see Mom. They were both disappointed to see that Dad was gone, but talking with Mom sure helped to ease the pain of Tinga's death. Mom said that when Dad was back, she'd let him know that they had stopped by.

Case moved out of Charlie's apartment that they shared and went to live with Max. After all, they had been dating for a couple years, so there was nothing wrong with living together they figured. 

Syl and Krit bought a home together in the same building as Logan's penthouse. So, whenever Mom went to see Logan for their romantic getaways, I'd go over to talk to Syl. For an adult at least twice my age, she understood me rather well. We would talk about James and Krit, trying to give each other advice, and laugh over hot chocolate and juice while discussing the world in general. Manticore was all in the past.

Mom and Logan had grown much closer, reforming the love that had been broken nearly twenty years ago. Mom even confided in me that they were thinking about engagement, but she wasn't sure about such a big step as marriage. It was going to be different, I agreed. But, nonetheless, she and Logan were as content as they could be.

Original Cindy moved into her new girlfriend's house after two dates. After all, she said to us with packed bags, "'dat was 'de good thing 'bout bein' a lesbian". Mom and I just laughed, wishing her good-luck. She knew where we were if she needed us. 

So, Mom and I had the apartment to ourselves for a couple days when I ran into Brin downtown. Her disease was getting worse and it was becoming harder for her to even walk into town to get food for herself. Without a moment's hesitation, I took her to the apartment. Mom was more than happy to see Brin once again and our home was full again. 

Mom and I finally got jobs that would help support the apartment payment-since Brin was unable to work. Mom went to work with Original Cindy at the department store. I, meanwhile, found an indoor pool where I could play lifeguard. Believe me, when a little kid's drowning, you thank the gods that you can dive off the end of your stand and make it down to the other side of the pool before an adult has time to finish a scream at seeing their kid bobbing in the pool.

So, when a month later finally came around, Dad was back in the apartment, (missing Mom's heat cycles this time-fortunately), Max and Case were living together, Jace had moved up to Seattle with her husband, Victor, because she didn't like being so far away from Max, Mom and Logan were growing closer than I could've imagined, and James and I were celebrating our one month anniversary. 

I wore the best dress that I could find because James had insisted that we dine at the finest restaurant he could afford. Naturally, he insisted on paying for it. He said that his job had gotten better, which gave him a raise. Besides, he wanted to make this special for me. 

The dress was something that I had bought at the store where Original Cindy and now Mom worked. It was a deep red color-almost blood red-with an overcast of black sparkles. Coming down to my ankles, with a fairly high slit up both sides and with thin spaghetti straps that I knew wouldn't keep me warm enough, I decided to borrow a black shawl from Mom.

For the date, I wore the dress with my hair pinned up and two tiny roses inserted in my brown knot of hair. Original Cindy let me borrow some of her jewelry along with a neat little purse. Mom bought me the dress as an early birthday present and all she could say was, "I hope it works out for you".

Mom dropped me off at the restaurant because she was on her way to see Logan anyhow and told me to have a good time. I smiled, and said that I would. She had yet to meet James face to face, but had heard enough about him to form her own opinion.

I found James inside, wearing an immaculate suit as he talked to the greeter about getting a table for two. 

"James?" I said to him.

He turned around in shock, and I saw his face fall at the sight of me. Trying to speak, his words came out jumbled, and he had to clear his throat before he could simply say, "Alanza."  
I grinned sheepishly and rested my hand on his arm. "You look great," I whispered to him.

"That'd be an understatement for you. You're absolutely gorgeous."

A greeter came out of the hustle of the serving area and led us to our table. I followed behind James, clutching his warm hand in between mine tightly. He gave me a reassuring squeeze before we sat down in a very comfortable booth. 

I was surprised restaurants in Seattle could be so utterly chic and fancy. Individual booths lined the walls of the square room while tables swam in the middle. Each booth or table had a candle in the middle with a fern and carnation wrapped around it. The lighting was dim to give a romantic feeling with just the candlelight dinner.

James and I were looking at the large, laminated menus that the greeter had given us when our waiter arrived. He leaned over our booth to set down silverware and napkins. Then, straightening back, he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Now, are you ready to order? Or would you like some more time?"

I glanced over at James and shrugged. "I'm ready."  
He set his menu down and looked up at the waiter. "I'm ready, too."

"Very good," the man said. He had an odd accent that wasn't really French, but sounded more like a cross between that and Irish. Rather weird. "Now, what would you like, sir?" the man asked James.

"I'll have flame-broiled chicken-"

"And what would you like for a side dish?"

"What is there?"  
"Coleslaw, cottage cheese, a fruit cocktail, or a salad."  
"I'll have the fruit cocktail," James replied.

"You also get a roll with your meal, too."

"I know that."  
"Will that be all? Something to drink?"

"Milk will be just fine."  
"Milk it is then." The waiter turned to me. "And you, ma'am?"  
"I'll take the Spring Pasta Mixture with a side of coleslaw and apple juice as a drink. And," I said before I could be interrupted. "I know that I receive a roll."

The waiter smiled underneath his bushy little mustache. "Is there anything else I can get you then?"  
James and I both shook our heads. The waiter, seeing that we were finished for that moment, hurried away to get our drinks. 

James settled back into the comfortable booth and sighed contently. "Nice seats," he remarked.

"In a place such as this, I'd certainly hope so. Are you sure you don't want me to chip in for the meal?"  
"No, I'll get it. It was my idea to come here, after all."  
We paused the conversation as the waiter brought us our drinks. I sipped gingerly at mine. It was very good apple juice. I don't think that I'd ever had better. 

"James?"  
"Yeah, Alanza?"  
"Thank you. Thanks for," I shrugged. "Staying in this relationship and taking me out to this lovely place."  
He smiled warmly. "Why wouldn't I stay in this relationship? Alanza, I know this is going to sound sudden, but I love you."

The three little words. Those three words that people in a relationship should say to each other, but my parents never did. They never said those words and now someone was saying them to _me. _My arm twitched and I figured it was just nervousness so I held it down tightly.

I smiled right back at him. "I love you too, James." We leaned in to kiss when out of nowhere, my hand shot up, smacking James hard in the nose.

"Alan-" he began as blood dribbled down the front of his good suit, but when I fell out of the booth madly shaking, he knew that I couldn't have done it on purpose. 

It was seizure season.


	59. My Daughter Too

I was on the floor, in the aisle actually, trembling violently. Unfortunately, I knew that this wasn't anywhere near the worse of the seizures. It was only the untimely beginning. 

I could think, so that wasn't the problem I was facing. The problem at hand was how to get my body under control so that I wouldn't hurt anybody. My strength was so powerful that last time I went into a seizure, I kicked my mom so hard that she sprained her wrist. And, as you may know, my mom is not a pain wuss. But, that time she had to bite her lip just to cry and had to keep on holding me so that I didn't hurt _myself._

James jumped out of the booth and crouched down beside me despite his bloody nose. I had clenched all of my muscles as hard as I possibly could to avoid hurting anyone and things were starting to look black from the sheer amount of energy it took to control myself. 

"Alanza?" he whispered to me as if no one had noticed even though I knew the entire restaurant was looking at us. "I'm going to call an ambulance."

"No…" I managed to hiss out between shakes. James paused as he rose to his feet, then sank back down. "Call…call m-my pa-pa-pa…rents," I stuttered.

James pulled out of his breast pocket a cell phone and dialed my number. He had only called my house a million times so we could talk on the phone, which led him to memorize my number. Good boy. 

"Yes?" I heard him say into the phone although his voice was far, far away. It was like a football announcer; their voice may have been loud, but yet you knew that they weren't directly talking to you. "This is James…Alanza's boyfriend…well, um, she appears to be going into a seizure…yes, I said seizure…no, I don't think she'll be able to be move…she said for me to call you…you know where the restaurant is?…give her what?…milk?…okay, I'll try that…thank you, Mrs. Guevara."

I could barely see, even though I knew that my eyes were opened. I wanted to tell James how sorry I was for ruining our date and that I never meant for this to happen. But, my tongue was thick inside my mouth and refused to cooperate with my still sane brain. 

I saw James' fuzzy shape in the background, reaching for the glass of milk he had ordered for dinner. He held it to my lips and said, "Alanza, it's milk. Your mom said that it should help."

Despite the fact I kept on reaching for the glass, I couldn't wrap my hands around it. Tenderly, James tipped it up so the milk sloshed into my mouth. Some of it spilled onto the floor underneath me, wetting my dress, but I could've cared less for my sight was returning. 

Our waiter was standing over us, wondering what to do. 

Seeing that the milk had eased my seizures, James snapped to the waiter, "Get some more milk!" Immediately, the man scurried off to go and get another pitcher full.

James leaned over me and brushed my hair out of my eyes, not understanding. His face was so sad that I almost burst into tears myself. "It'll be okay, Alanza, it'll be ok," he said to me, but it sounded like he was reassuring himself more than me. 

I reached for his hand, missed, and tried again. This time, I was able to clasp his hand in mine. Still unable to talk, I just stared at him, my body still trembling, and prayed he would understand how much he truly meant to me. 

At that moment, just as the waiter came back with more milk, the doors to the restaurant flew open. I followed James' eyes to the door where Mom and Dad both came bursting in. 

Mom's hair was windblown and her eyes wild and panicked. She wasn't even wearing her jacket. Dad, on the other hand, was better at concealing his fear, but wasn't that good, for I could still see it in his eyes and in his tousled hair. He too, wasn't wearing his leather jacket. They must've really booked to get to the restaurant in the time that they had.

Although my parents and James had never met, I'm pretty sure they figured out who was who when they me shaking on the floor with James right beside me. 

James sat frozen, seemingly unable to move in either shock or amazement at the appearance of my parents as they ran towards me. I guess if I hadn't known who they were, I'd be a little bit freaked too. Just because you couldn't see the barcodes, you could sense that these people were powerful. And damn powerful at that.

"Mom…" I managed to creak out. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes as the onset of hysterics drew closer. 

James, hearing me, finally got his head on right, and rose to his feet to meet my parents.

"You must be James," my mom said.

"Yes," he acknowledged.

I saw that Dad said nothing, but that wasn't extremely surprising. Mom crouched down beside me and gently cradled my shaking face in her smooth hands. "Alanza? Alanza? Can you hear me?" she asked.

"Yea…"  
"We're going to take you home now, honey. Everything will be all right, everything will be all right. Don't you worry."

Dad crouched down and put one arm underneath my neck and the other under my knees. In one fluid move, he lifted me and carried me in his arms, despite the fact I was still shaking. Sometimes it pays to have a super strong dad. "Dad…" I whispered to him. 

"'Lanzie," he began, but didn't finish as James came running up to me. 

"Alanza," James said to me and rested his hand on my shoulder. "You take care of yourself, ok?"

"She'll be fine," Dad reassured my boyfriend. I really felt sorry for James. His first meeting of the girlfriend's parents had to be in a restaurant when she goes into a seizure. Ouch. 

"Let's go, Zack," Mom said to Dad. Then turning to James, "I'll have Alanza give you a call when she's feeling better." Dad began to walk out of the restaurant, with me clutched protectively in his strong arms. My dad hadn't carried me since I was a little girl and needed to be put to bed. Even then, that was so long ago, the memory was nearly lost to me. "Do you need a ride home?" I heard Mom asking James.

"No, I'll be fine."

"Thank you very much for calling us, James."

I didn't hear James' reply as Dad and I stepped out into the night. There were two motorcycles outside-Mom's and mine. Dad got onto mine, and I knew that I was going to have to talk to him about that later. "I know, 'Lanzie, it's your bike, but hey, this isn't exactly a stroll in the park, either." He was just talking to me as if nothing was wrong, as if it really was just a stroll in the park. 

Mom came out the restaurant building, not even bothering to apologize to the waiter because James was doing that and got onto her own bike. "You sure you can handle her, Zack?" she asked.

"I got 'er."

"You drop my daughter, I don't think I could forgive you."

"Max, she's mine too." I only wished I could've seen Mom's face as I lay in Dad's lap, his right arm crookedly hanging onto me. For the first time since I could remember, he had admitted that I was part of his doing. I wanted to burst out into tears right then and there, while laughing my full head off. 


	60. Sleep, Alanza, sleep

If someone were to have asked me to remember the ride home that night, I don't think that I could've. The seizures were starting to get bad enough that I was beginning to black out. Things came and went in fuzzy blurs at the best. The only thing I recall from that ride was that I now knew that Dad truly loved me as his daughter-not a soldier that looked like his daughter. It was a feeling that I would never forget.

Originally, Dad had placed me on the couch when we arrived home, but a couple minutes later, I fell right off and continued my shaking on the ground. Mom crouched down beside me and held onto my hands so that I wouldn't hurt myself or anybody else by hitting them-like I had done with James. 

The problem with the seizures was that I was unable to control my own body. And, with my body being as powerful as it is, I could hurt people on accident. I've mentioned before that I've accidentally sprained my mom's wrist, which is just the start of a long line of pain. I've kicked Dad in the shin, broke my own finger, and, to make a long list short, everything from there to the most recent incident of blooding James' nose. 

"Alanza," Mom was saying to me, but I couldn't understand her words. She was so far away. Mom! You can't leave me here all alone. "Zack, get her some milk."

Dad, where are you? I don't want to die here. "We don't have any." What? No milk? God, I'm going to die now. I've never had a seizure without any aid of milk. Don't let me die. Don't let James see me like this. Oh, James, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you and me to ever have to experience this together. It was all my fault. All my fault.

My thoughts that night were a mad scramble of words that were hard to decipher. Mom held onto my hands as long as she could while arguing with Dad about going down to town to get some milk. 

He eventually went, but came back an hour later in the middle of the night to claim that there wasn't any that he could get. In California, we were always able to get milk. I could hear the raw fear in my parents' voices as they talked about how they were going to have to hang onto me during the worst of the seizures so that nothing happened.

It was like a storm that came far off in the distance, but you can still hear it and prepare for its destruction. Unfortunately, only I could hear the seizure storm coming and I, at the time, was unable to tell Mom and Dad about it. 

From my tiny little quivers, my body began to shift into all out quakes. If you've ever watched a rodeo, then you have seen the cowboy on the back on of the bucking horse. I was that cowboy, frantically twisting my body so that my arms flailed and legs kicked outward in any and all directions. 

"Zack…" I heard Mom say as she tried to hang onto my hands. "Zack! She's going into the worse part of it!" 

"Oh God…" he said as he scrambled down beside me. "You grab her arms, I'll take her legs," he told Mom, morphing back into the old, efficient CO of long ago. He knew how to handle an emergency. 

I felt Mom pinning my arms down as she pushed me against the side of the couch so that I wouldn't hurt myself. Dad was trying to pin my ever-kicking legs down when I made contact with something soft. "Shit," he hissed, and I felt warm blood fall onto my bare legs where the dress did not cover them. Eventually, both my legs and arms were held captive while I was pushed against the couch. 

Mom and Dad stayed with me all through the night even though I could not see them. I still felt that they were there, making sure that I didn't hurt myself. 

Flickers of images from long ago passed across my memory as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Images from so long ago that I had to question whether I was going delusional or whether they really had happened. Mom sitting in this apartment in a bed holding me; Logan and Mom together while she still sat in that bed; a chess game, then Dad coming for Mom; Dad driving a car into the snow; and Mom knowing that we were never going to be able to escape ourselves.

Alanza, you're crazy, you're insane. Where in the world did you dig memories like those up? Where?

In the distance, the phone rang. "Should we get it?" Mom questioned.

"Max, it's four in the morning," Dad answered, even though I heard him yawning through the answer. "Probably a prank. Besides, we can't leave Alanza."  
The phone rang about five more times before the person hung up. I was going to have to find out who it was. James? Max? Case? Who was it?

Finally, around six in the morning, my seizures stopped altogether. My eyes fluttered open weakly, and I stared around in awe at the room as if I had never seen it before. Mom smiled and brushed her hand through my hair. "Sleep, Alanza, sleep." And so I did.


	61. Rest of Your Milk

When I finally awoke from a seemingly endless slumber, the first thing that I noticed was the darkness. It was pitch black-worse than the darkest night. Obviously, I had awoken in the middle of the night. But the confusing part was to why I couldn't even see the moon through the windows above my usual couch bed. 

Then, I realized that I wasn't on the couch; I was in Dad's bedroom that he occupied while he came to see us. How very odd.

I rolled my head to the side as my eyes adjusted to the dark and saw a figure sitting by the bed, head clasped between their hands. Reaching my hand out, I touched their knee softly.

Immediately, they jerked awake and then sighed at seeing that it was only I. "'Lanzie…" the person said, and I instantly knew that it was Dad who was by my side. 

"Dad? What are you doing here?" 

"Making sure you don't hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine, the seizures are over," I replied.

"Just have to be sure."

I laughed slightly in the darkness and glanced to the door where a sliver of pale light shone underneath. "Mom still up?" I asked.

"Prob'ly. I wouldn't know. I've been sitting here for a couple hours now."

"Oh." In the darkness of the room, I saw him reach up to tenderly touch his lip, then look at his fingers as if checking for something, and finally drop his hand back onto his leg. "Sorry," I apologized, knowing that I had done something to him.

"God, Alanza, a bloody lip isn't anything compared to a lot of the shit I've had."

"Still."

"Still it's a bloody lip, and I probably ruined your dress by bleeding on it." After he had said that, I realized that I was still wearing my beautiful dress from the date with James. I indeed could feel the hardened blood on my nylons. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any on the actual dress, and I would be able to wear it again. After all, it was such a pretty dress.

In the night. Dad reached for my hand and, surprisingly, he hung onto it almost in a loving manner. Using his thumb, he rubbed the back of my hand with soft, gentle strokes. I watched his face carefully, trying to see what he was thinking; I was far too tired and weak to read his mind. 

He stopped caressing my hand and gave me an almost quizzical look. "You're fuzzy."

"Yeah? I haven't had time to shave." So, copying him, I reached up and touched the side of his face where he hadn't shaved yet. "And you're prickly."

"I haven't had time to shave," he said, laughing slightly. 

In the distance, outside the bedroom, the phone rang. I heard Mom answer it and knock slightly on the door. "Zack?" she whispered. "Alanza up?"

"Yes," I replied before Dad had a chance to. Slowly and stiffly, I rose out of the bed. I had to sit at the foot of it for a moment or two as the blood rushed out of my head. Finally, I pushed myself up and opened the door, letting the bright kitchen light spill over me. 

Mom stood just outside the door and offered an arm to support me as I came out. "I'm fine," I argued and walked over to where the phone sat. I picked it up and put my thumb over the mouthpiece so that the person on the other end wouldn't hear me. "Who is it?" I asked.

"It's James. He's been calling all day and most of the night while you were asleep."

"I slept a whole day?"  
Mom nodded. "Yes."

I rubbed my temples in frustration and tried not to scream. "What time is it now?"

"Close to midnight."

I nodded slowly and almost blankly as I picked up the phone and spoke to James. "Hello? James?"  
"Alanza?" He sounded amazed and scared all at once. Well, I guess seeing his girlfriend collapse in a restaurant, then having her biker parents carry her out, gives someone a reason to be amazed and scared.

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

There was a considerably long pause before James finally blurted, "I was worried to death about you!"

"Seriously, James, I'm fine."

"I didn't know what to think. I mean, I thought you were going to die or something."

"I just have seizures."

"Pretty bad ones."

I shrugged to myself. "It's life." Then, changing the subject I asked, "How'd the rest of dinner go?"

"I left nearly right after you did. The manager didn't charge us anything considering we hadn't even eaten. Since then, I've been trying to get a hold of you to see if you're all right."

"Glad we didn't get charged."

"The manager even _apologized_ for reasons I really don't understand."

"James?"

"Yeah, Alanza?"

"You want to try dinner again?"

"What? You just woke up from sleeping a day and you want to have dinner?"

"It's kinda my fault our date got screwed up. How's tomorrow looking for you?"  
"Tomorrow?" he echoed.

"Yep, tomorrow. How about six?"

"Alanza, don't you think it's a little soon to start going out and stuff. I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Look," I said to him, "the seizures are just another pothole down this road called Memory Lane that I happen to visit every so often. You drive over the pothole, let it shake the car up a bit, then continue onward. And I want to continue."

"You sure?"

"Definitely. Is six good with you? I'll pick you up."

He sighed heavily, almost exasperated with my stubbornness. "Six is good with me."

"Great, and this time? I promise you can finish the rest of your milk-on your own." 


	62. Dead or Alive

Original Cindy stopped over to pick up Mom for work the next morning with a dress. She handed the dress to me, which was in a black bag, and said that I could wear it for my date with James. When I asked her how she knew, she just gave one of her eye-rolls and said, "Original Cindy gots 'er ways."

I asked no more. 

So, Mom and Original Cindy headed off to work, leaving Dad and I alone. I called in sick to work with a case of the shakes and chills, which wasn't a complete lie because I was rather cold and saying that I had had the shakes wasn't exactly an overstatement either. 

Dad made himself comfortable at the kitchen table, eating something that I could distinguish between plant or animal matter. But, he ate quietly nonetheless, staring out the windows while he chewed in an almost methodical manner.

I, meanwhile, was sitting on the couch, opening the dress that Original Cindy had let me borrow. Still wearing my pajamas, I was tired and could feel the onset of a terrible headache, but I wasn't about to wait in suspense until later that night. 

Since the zipper on the bag became stuck, I was forced to resort to pulling the dress out of the top hanger hole, which ended up wrinkling the dress more than needed. Eventually, after much pulling, I managed to get the entire dress out. 

It was exactly the opposite of the red romantic dress I had worn the previous night. The dress I held in my hands couldn't easily be described in words. The best thought I had for it was "fiery".

A deep shading mix of orange and red, it looked exactly like flames itself. The hem was purposely asymmetrical, as it started on the left above my thigh and swooped down to the middle of my calf on the right. On the bottom of it, tiny red beads swayed as I turned the dress over to examine it closer. The back plunged down considerably low so that the V-cut came down to the middle of my back, and the front was fortunately just a usual bowl neckline. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the entire dress was covered in tiny golden glitter sparkles. 

As I was looking at the dress and checking for any stains of the sort, Dad plodded into the living room and leaned against the wall, eating something out of a bowl. "That's the dress you're going to wear?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.  
"Perhaps."

"Rather risqué, isn't it?"

"You worried about James?" I asked him, not backing down. If I wanted to wear the dress, I was going to wear the dress. No amount of yelling from Dad would stop me.

"Not him personally, but what could happen if you two decided to rent a room…"

"We're not going to sleep together, if that's what you mean," I told Dad. "Besides, it's just dinner."

"Yeah, but dinner doesn't always have to end at the restaurant; there could be dessert waiting someplace else."

"If you're trying to talk sex-ed with me now, Dad, it's kinda late. Mom's already filled me in."

"I _know_ that. It's just that I want to make sure that you know how me and Max feel about it."

"I know, I know," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "'If I ever become pregnant, the child will be immediately aborted. No questions will be asked, nor will there be any chances of adoption.' I know it all; you've only reminded me every single time I've started dating."

"I just don't want you to have something like…like…"

"Like me?" I asked. "You can say it, Dad. I'm not offended. You don't want me to get pregnant and end up having another genetically screwed up mistake. Plus," I said to him as I rose to my feet, "you don't want to become a grandpa."

"No, I don't."

"That's what I thought. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get a shower, shave and then catch up on all of my missed sleep because I have a date tonight."

"You do that, then."

"I will," I responded as I laid the dress over the arm of the couch. Then, grabbing my bathrobe off the floor, I walked over to the bathroom. "Look, Dad," I told him as I rested my hand on the doorknob, "you and I both know that another thing like me would be the start of World War Three."

"So?"

"So, I want to be the one who starts World War Three, not my kid. Besides," I said with a wry grin. "I got you and Mom to teach me all the cool fighting moves. I couldn't teach my kid that."

He rolled his eyes. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah? And I bet you haven't forgotten one bit."

After a long, hot shower and a shaving experience that clogged up the razor, it was time to start getting ready for that night. 

My hair was up in tight curlers, and Dad gave me a look between confusion and shock as I sat down to grab some quick snack since I had not eaten since breakfast. He said nothing personally to me, but mumbled something about "what the world was coming to" as he turned and went out to the living room.

Since we had no bread in the house, I resorted to eating jam straight out of the jar. In my opinion, it was just like eating juice-but with chunky fruit to accompany it. Either way it was a sweet fruit taste. 

I walked out to the living room, following Dad. He lay, sprawled on the couch, with his arms hanging sloppily off the sides as he gazed at the streets below. Hearing me approaching, he looked up and stared curiously at me with my hair curlers and dressed in pajamas. Then, seeing that I was eating something, he asked, "What in the world are you eating now?"

"Jam," I replied, moving my fingers away from the label so that he could see it.

"Jam?" he echoed, then groaned and looked back out the window.

"What?" I asked. "Can't a person eat jam straight out of the jar now?"

"It's not that…it's just that…I don't want history repeat itself."

"It's just jam!" 

"Whatever," he muttered and lapsed back into his mode of silence. 

I shrugged and went back out to the kitchen to put the jam away. "Hey, whatever, yourself."

Once my hair was dry, I began to get dressed in my outfit. Unfortunately, the dress was shorter than I would have liked, but it would work nonetheless. I debated for a long time between Mom's black shoes that she let me borrow or my own red shoes. Both matched the dress, but I wasn't sure which ones I should wear. Then, finally exasperated with having to choose, I stuck my head out the bathroom, where I was getting dressed, and asked Dad, "Which shoes do you like better?"

"What? Oh." I held out the shoes so he could clearly see them. "Let me see your dress."

"No, 'cause you'll tell me to change it."

"Well then, how do I know what shoes match?"

Carefully, I inched one leg out-the one with the longer side of the dress-and pointed. "See? Now which ones do you like better?"

He shrugged. "'Lanzie, I don't have any style of fashion for you; you're better at it then I am."

"Argh!" I cried in frustration and closed the door behind me. 

"In case you're interested though," he continued from behind the door, "I'm voting for the red ones." 

I was going to choose the red pair anyhow, I thought silently to myself and slid the high heeled sandals on. Adjusting the straps on the dress, I smiled to myself in the mirror, remembering Max's comment from the camping trip: "If James don't drop ova, he'd hafta be gay." Then, I laughed out loud and didn't care if Dad heard me or not.

Finally, after nearly an hour of combing and brushing and spritzing and readjusting, I was ready to go. My hair fell around my shoulders in tight curls with a red headband to accent it. I had borrowed some of Mom's makeup because I tended not to wear makeup that much. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and exited the bathroom.

By this time, Dad was outside, examining Mom's motorcycle. Mine still sat next to it, waiting impatiently for me to come. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror one last time and then headed outside to grab my bike to go and see James.

Dad didn't seem to notice me until I sat down on my bike and began to turn out of the back alley. "_That's _your dress?" he asked in stark disbelief.

"You like it?" 

"I'm not going to say anything."

"Yeah, but you're thinking that I'm going to get knocked up by James, and you'll end up becoming a grandpa at forty because your daughter is wearing a somewhat provocative dress."

"I hate your mind-reading crap," he muttered.

"That makes me love it all the more."

"Yeah, well, have a good time and don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

"I should be back no later than one-ok? Will you tell Mom that for me?"  
"Sure."

"Thanks, Dad!" I called as I zoomed off on my motorcycle wearing my nice dress. 

James' apartment complex was on the other side of town and much closer to the water than mine was. He had insisted that he would drive us out to dinner when I had called him earlier that morning. I, though, told him not to worry about plans because _I _was going to be the one taking care of the itinerary this time. Personally, I think he was a little worried as to what I had planned.

After calling him that morning, I had realized that I had forgotten a gift for our anniversary. I searched the city high and low, looking for one until I found something that deemed appropriate. Now, as I careened through the streets with my dress fluttering in the wind, I could only hope James would like it.

His apartment complex wasn't nearly as nice as Logan's, but then, I suppose nobody's was. James was waiting in the lobby when I pulled up on my black bike. As he left the building, he looked both shocked and delighted to see me.

"I can't believe you drove your motorcycle here with your dress on," he told me as I offered him the helmet. 

"Extension to the soul, James. That's all there is to it."

He was wearing a pair of black slacks and a satin red shirt. And even though he had left the shirt untucked, he still looked good. I smiled slightly to myself, savoring in his looks.

"You ready?" I asked him, turning back to face him.

"I guess so."  
"Then, let's go."

I gunned the engine, causing James to hang on tighter to my waist. After all, the bike was only built for one person and there was hardly any room for another. Therefore, any other people who rode with me had to hang onto me to avoid falling off.

The streets were nearly silent in the darkness. There were a couple cars here and there, along with the usual bums gathered by the road. I tried to tell myself that if I didn't see them, then I wouldn't be obliged to helping them. It made me feel so utterly bad to see people suffering like that.

Finally, we arrived at the waterfront, and I let the engine idle for a moment before cutting it completely.

"The water?" James asked.

"Just c'mere," I told him and grabbed his hand in mine as I headed over to the water. There, waiting as expected was a canoe. I had specifically called around town to borrow somebody's. Then, with direct orders, I told them to leave it in the water at seven o'clock. Checking my watch, I nodded satisfactorily. It was 6:59.

"It's a canoe," James stated.

"Very good. Now, let's go."

"You can't be serious."  
"James, I am very serious."

He entered hesitantly, then I did, and we used the paddles to push off of the shore. We rowed evenly, in long smooth strides that left little ripples upon the black glass of water. Finally, in the middle of the water, we pulled our paddles in and sat, listening to the sound of the lapping water. 

"I'm sorry for what happened the other night," I apologized after a moment of stark silence.

"I just hope you're all right."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that…I ruined our date."

"Alanza, the date wasn't ruined."

"How so?"  
He paused for a moment, thinking, then smiled wryly. "We didn't get charged?"

Hitting him playfully in the canoe, I laughed. "Good excuse."

"It's the best I had."

"So," I said to him as I dug around in my purse for his present, "I've got something for you."  
"Me too." 

I pulled out the present, wrapped in paper, and handed it to him, wringing my hands nervously. I really hoped that he liked it, otherwise I would feel like an absolute idiot. Like a child at Christmas, he tore off the wrapping paper and stared for a moment at the CD he held in his hands.

"It has all the songs we've listened to together. See?" I asked, pointing to the title of one. "This is the first song we danced to."  
He grinned broadly and leaned over in the canoe to give me a warm hug. "It's perfect," he replied. "Now, I can play it in my car on the way to work."  
"It's even has all of Max's crazy songs that we were forced to listen to at the camp."

James laughed louder than necessary. "Crazy songs is right." Then, he paused and reached into his back pants' pocket. "Here, this is for you." He handed me a little black box, which I accepted carefully.

I opened it with the utmost tenderness. Then, in the dying sunlight, I saw what he had given me. "James!" I cried in happiness.

It was a golden necklace with a tiny ruby heart at the end of the chain. "It's beautiful," I whispered.

"No," he told me as he put it on, "_you're _beautiful."

After spending a long time out in the canoe, we finally pushed ourselves ashore and started to walk back to the motorcycle to head home. Already the moon was high in the sky and the shadows were endless along the broken buildings. 

Suddenly, James froze beside me. He still had his balmy hand in mine, but gently pushed me behind him. "James? What is it?" I whispered.

"We've got trouble," was all he said, and I then saw the three, drunken street thugs with their long knives and short-handled pistols. All three of them saw a fine-dressed couple that would prove to be good money-dead or alive.


	63. Black Designer Shoes

Trying to be my protector, James ushered me behind him. Of course he had to be the gentleman, and he was probably going to get hurt doing so. "Look, we don't want any trouble," he told the three men.

One of them swaggered towards James and held out an ominous looking knife that was crusted with dried blood. I felt a sickening twist form in my stomach as the man walked towards James. He had a scar down the side of his face that twisted his entire lip and tattoos up and down his arms along with a gnarly black ponytail down his back. "You got trouble," he sneered to James.

"Look, you can have all my money, just don't hurt us." 

From behind me, came another man and poked his gun into my back. I yelped instinctively, which caused James to glance behind me. The fear in his eyes was so evident I was sure the men had to see it as well.

"You're in the wrong area at the wrong time-you got trouble whether you like it or not," the man continued.

"Quit it," James told them. Then, from out of the blackness, the third man grabbed James and slammed the handle of his gun against James' skull. Poor James fell to the ground, blood dribbling from his hair, but he refused to give up. Slowly, with my assistance, he rose to his feet.

We huddled together, awaiting the next move. I knew that I should try and get rid of the men before they hurt either of us anymore, but at the same time I was trying to remain guarded against James. I couldn't have him find out about me now. Just do it, I kept on telling myself, or else somebody is going to get hurt. But, what about James finding out? I felt like screaming because I didn't know what to do.

"Take their money," the apparent leader said to the man behind me. Instantly, his fingers tore my purse away.

"Hey!" I protested, but my scream was cut off short as he punched me in the face. I swayed as the blood came out of my nose, bit down hard on my lip. Dad would be disappointed that I'd let these punks take me over so easily. Screw you, Dad, I thought wickedly. This isn't your battle. 

The man pulled out the measly twenty dollars I had and grimaced. "Twenty bucks. That's all."

"Check him," the leader said to the man who had already hit James. Immediately, the hitter man ripped James' shirt in half and reached inside the pants' pockets. He emerged with James' wallet and riffled through it. Apparently James didn't have that much on him. The hitter showed the leader however much James had, and they both sneered.

"You don't got enough to get outta here," the leader said to us.

Then, he waved his hand and immediately the gun man behind me and the hitter man launched at James. They attacked him with both the beating of their guns and then knocked him sharply in the forehead with their knee. I screamed and rushed towards the leader so that they would stop, but he shoved me down due to the fact of my ridiculous high heels. Then, they threw James' bruised and bleeding body against one of the brick walls. James didn't move.

Next, they turned to me.

"Nice necklace," one of them sneered.

"Better body," the other cackled.

I rolled my eyes. "Men. Is that all you guys can think about?" They looked slightly confused as to why I would start being cocky all of a sudden, but approached nonetheless. With James' unfortunate situation, I was now able to launch into the mode I had been named for. Damn Max and her fortune cookie saying.

"Look, I can't fight in shoes," I told them as I removed my high heeled spiked sandals. "At least not these." Then, I placed my hands on my hips. "All right, since you just hurt my boyfriend, who wants to die first?"

One of them came rushing at me, gun pointed out front so that I would weaken and bend to his perverse wishes. I kicked upward, sending the gun flying off into the darkness so that it clattered far behind him. He wouldn't find it. Angrily, he came at me with his knife. Quickly avoiding the fatal blade of the knife, I grabbed him by his wrists and flipped him over onto his back. Then, I grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed my knee into the back of his head. There wasn't anymore movement from him.

The remaining two men, the leader and the gunman, looked slightly panicked. The female that they had threatened just whipped one of their own boys. But, with a curt nod of the leader's head, the gunman came at me. 

He shot blindly at me, trying to hit. Naturally, I was far too fast and danced out of his way without a problem. "C'mon," I laughed. "I'm not even breaking out into a sweat here." He came back at me, fists ready. He was smarter than the hitter man and kept his arms tucked close to his body so that I couldn't grab him. 

Just as he came towards me, the leader wrapped his arm around my neck. "Get 'er, now," he told his follower. Immediately, I lashed out, bringing my legs up so that I kicked the gunman underneath the chin as hard as I could. I heard a distinctive cracking sound and he crumbled, not moving.

Since we were standing by a brick wall, the leader was trying to smash my head against it to knock me unconscious. Fortunately, the wall gave me the perfect advantage that I needed. I ran up the side of the wall like Mom had taught me, then flipped over backwards and smashed _his _head into the wall. All three men weren't moving. Perfect.

Quickly, I ran over to James and checked for the vital signs. He still had a pulse, but his breathing was swallow and strangled. He needed to get to a hospital as fast as possible. 

I picked him up in my arms, grabbed my shoes, and without even bothering to put them back on again, I zoomed off into the night, holding James just as Dad had held me. But the fact that still bothered me was why all three of those men wore black designer shoes. 


	64. In the ER

I drove James to the nearest hospital, which happened to be Metro Medical. Carrying him awkwardly in my arms, I ran inside with my bare feet. 

Two nurses came down one of the hallways with eyes encircled in late night black circles. They drank coffee out of Styrofoam cups and were on their way home, when I cried out, "Wait! Please! Someone help me!" They whirled around and seeing James with his shirt ripped and head bloody, they immediately set their cups down and rushed towards me.

"What happened?" the one with curly blond hair that wore a nametag of "Kelly" asked me, while the other one paged some doctors.

"We got attacked by some gang members. Please, help him," I begged, trying not to fall into hysterics. You should be happy, I told myself. You just fought off three hardcore street thugs without a scratch, and James is fine. But, I wasn't anywhere near happy.

From down the hallway, a tall black man with the nametag of "Bling", wheeled a stretcher, "Here, set him down on this. We'll take care of him." Gently, I lay James down on the stretcher and kissed his face tenderly. 

"Don't you dare die on me," I whispered as I felt tears forming in my eyes. They took James down one of the hallways and left me to wait. 

Kelly returned shortly after and asked, "Are you ok? Perhaps you should be checked out."

"I need to be here when he leaves," I argued. "I can't abandon him."

"He'll be fine. Looks like he'll just need a couple stitches and things should be fine. Now, I'll have to ask you to fill out a form for him that includes medical coverage for him-"

"I'm just a girlfriend."

"Do you know anyone we could get a hold of that would be able to help him? Any close family?"

"His father's the only one in town; the rest of his family is back in Wisconsin."

"Do you know his father's number?"

I shook my head.

"Well, we'll check for identification on him and see if there's any numbers that we can call. Meanwhile, would you like something to drink while you wait?"

"Juice, please."

"We only have orange. It's for breakfast." 

I glanced at my watch. It was nearly three in the morning. "Orange will be fine," I replied, and Kelly hurried away to get it for me. 

Sighing heavily, I fell back onto one of the overstuffed chairs. What was I supposed to do now? Find James' father, who he despises, and say, "Hey, your son who you've left for all of his life just got into an accident. He might need some help. And, by the way, I'm the girlfriend you've never met"? 

Soon, Kelly came back and held out the juice in a plastic cup. "Here, you go," she smiled.

"Thanks," I replied and drank it hungrily. How could something taste so good when the world was so rotten? 

Finally, after close to an hour of waiting, the man named Bling appeared and smiled. "He's asking for you."

"Where is he?" I asked, rising immediately to my feet. During my waiting period, I went back out to my motorcycle and got both my shoes along with my license and the extra money I stored under a crack in the seat.

"Follow me," he replied and I did. We walked down a couple long hallways as he asked what my name was. 

"Alanza," I responded. Then, unsure if he was gathering hospital information, I added, "Alanza Guevara."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he comprehended what I said, then, "Are you related to anyone named Max Guevara?"

"She's my mom."

"She came back to Seattle?" Bling asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. But, how do you know her?"

"I used to work with Logan before I came to the hospital. That was before she left with that other guy."

"That'd be my dad."

"I didn't mean for that to be offending."

"It's not. I know that Logan and my dad don't like each other. It's just another fact of life."  
"Well, here we are. James is in there," he told me, pointing to room number 129. "I'll have to give Logan a call sometime." He extended his hand, which I accepted warmly. "It was good to meet you Alanza."

"And you too."

Hesitantly, I opened the door to James' room. He lay in the bed, a drip I.V. beside him, with closed eyes. His head was bandaged up, and they had put him in the regular hospital gown.

"James?" I whispered, touching his arm gently as I sat down in the over-stuffed hospital chair.

Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open and finally he saw me. Immediately, he smiled. "Alanza…"

The gates I had held up since I had brought James to the hospital collapsed as I bent over him and began to cry. "I am so sorry," I told him through tears.

He brushed his fingers through my hair. "What? If it wasn't for you, I'd still be out there on the streets."

"No, but it was all my fault. I should have defended you or something," I managed to get out between hot floods of tears.  
"It wasn't anybody's fault…Are you ok?"  
"James, I'm fine. Don't worry about me; you're the one in the hospital bed."

He smiled crookedly. "I've had worse scraps than this."

I sat back up and wiped the tears away, knowing that my mascara was probably smeared all over my face. "They were asking about your dad."

"Who?"

"The hospital staff. They needed to know about the medical coverage and stuff like that. They wanted me to fill it out."

"Did you?"

"No."

He sighed. "I'm a legal adult. I don't need my dad to take care of stuff for me. He hasn't all my life. Why should he start now?"  
"I didn't know what to say."

"It's not your problem, though."

"I know that, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you," I told him.

"You need to get home. What time is it?"  
I glanced at my watch and absentmindedly yawned. "5:30 in the morning."

"You really do need to get home. Your parents are probably worried sick about you."

"Are you going to be ok?"

"I'll be fine," he assured me. 

I smiled slowly and rose to my feet. Then, I bent over and kissed him fiercely. His hand came along the back of my head and stroked my curls that were now coming undone. We stood, lip-locked for a moment before I pulled away and nodded blankly with tears in my eyes. "I thought you were going to die."

"Alanza," he said as I left the room, "I'd never leave you like that."

I closed the door silently and wondered how I could have gotten so lucky to have someone like James in my life. After all the rotten things in my life, I guess there was some sunshine.

The hallways were beginning to come to life with the early morning crew. New people were sitting behind the desk now. One of the women sighed heavily and snorted. "I can't get a hold of this girl," she groaned.

"Who is it?" the other asked, leaning over to look at the name.

"Somebody named Alanza Guevara. Weird."

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. "Um, that'd be me." I relished in how their eyes widened as they stared, amazed, at the six foot tall girl before them. 

"You're Alanza Guevara?"

"Yep. I got my driver's license right here if you want proof," I replied, holding it out to them.

"No, no, we believe you," the nurse replied. I was surprised she was so trusting; many people in the world weren't after having gone through a radioactive pulse.

"Then what's up?"

She sighed heavily and bit down on her bottom lip. My stomach twisted as hot acid coated the sides of it. Whatever she had to tell me was not going to be good news. "Your mom, Max Guevara, was just admitted recently for a severe motorcycle accident. She's in the ER right now, and they're not sure if she's going to make it"


	65. The Tears Streamed

My legs nearly fell out from underneath me, and I was forced to grab the edge of the counter. "Are you sure it's Max Guevara?" I asked, my tongue thick and heavy inside my dry mouth. "It could be somebody else."

The receptionist looked from me to the pages of notes she held in her hand and started flipping through them. Finally, she stopped and read off the list. "A white female, approximate age of forty, brown hair, brown eyes, an interesting barcode tattoo on the back of her neck. Plus, she had I.D. on her, which clearly stated she was Max Guevara." 

At that point, all the emotions I had contained since James' accident came unleashed. All the anger, the sadness, the pain, just everything came flying out. "Where is she?!" I screamed as the tears began to flow down my face, burning my skin. "Where is she? I have to see her! I have to give her…give her blood. I need a phone. Please, I need a phone!" 

The ladies had obviously seen someone in hysterics before and handed me a cordless phone. "You can make any phone call you wish, unless it's out of the state."

"Screw you," I hissed. Nobody was going to tell me what to do. Not now with my mom on the verge of death. Either the ladies didn't hear me or didn't care because they continued to chatter pleasantly.

I furiously punched in some numbers and waited as the phone rang once…twice…three times…Finally, on the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"Hello?" The person's voice was clogged and thick, as if they had a cold.  
"Brin!?" I nearly screamed into the phone.

"Alanza, is that you?"

"Yes, yes, where's Dad? I have to talk to him. Now," I begged, fighting back tears. My chest was heaving violently, and I was deathly afraid that I was going to go into a seizure right then and there.

"He's right here with Krit, Syl, and Jace," she responded. "What's wrong?" 

"I have to talk to him…I can't sit here and wait. I have to talk to him." I was babbling now and we both knew it. Yet, she just told me to wait a minute and she would get Dad. 

"Hello?" Dad asked from the other end. 

"Dad, it's Alanza."

"Alanza, what's wrong? You sound like you're going into hysterics."  
"I'm about ready to!" I snapped. "Sorry…"

"No, no, where are you? We've been worried about you. I mean, it's what? Six in the morning? Max just went out looking for you and-"

"She got into an accident and the doctors don't think she's going to make it and James and I just got into street fight and he's in the hospital right now and the doctors know that Mom has a barcode and I have to give her blood or else she's going to die!" I spat out all in one breath. "Dad, she's going to die!"

"She's not going to die."  
"But, your body won't take any other blood except for any other genetic freak's blood."  
"Our bodies can handle normal blood, if that's what you want to say. It just won't help us out as much. Eventually our bodies will reject the abnormal cells, but that'll take a couple days to do so."

"They won't let me see her!"

"Look, you wait right there…where are you?"  
"Metro Medical."

"Metro Medical," he repeated, and I heard him call in the background at Krit and Syl to start heading over to Metro Medical Hospital. "Look," he said to me, "Krit and Syl are on their way. Jace is going to stay here with Brin, and I'll be over just as soon as I get off of the phone with you."

"But, she could die!" I repeated.

"'Lanza, if I know Max, she won't die without a fight."

"But they said they don't know if she'll make it!"

"They're stupid doctors who don't know anything. When we get down there, I'll ask the staff to have her removed-"

"They won't let you, unless you're family."

"I can lie and say I'm her husband."

At that moment, the fact that he would lie about such a thing struck me as terribly funny and I began to laugh and the tears burned my giggling skin. "She won't be happy about that."

"You want me to have Logan come down?" he asked, saying Logan's name like he'd eaten something he would have rather spit back out. 

"I don't know."

"Look, we can get her out and take her back home. We understand more about injuries than those damn doctors."

"But what about her barcode?" 

"Look, Alanza, I have to get going so I can get to the hospital. Ok? Krit and Syl should be there at any moment."

"Ok, Dad."

"I'll be there in a bit." I was about to protest, when he hung up on me. I fell back into one of the hospital waiting chairs and cried as I had never remembered. The tears streamed down my face and made darkened spots on my dress. And no matter how hard I tried to convince myself everything was going to be all right, I couldn't believe it. 


	66. State Experimentation

I don't remember how long I sat there and cried my heart out. A couple nurses patted me on the shoulder, trying to make me believe "that everything was going to be all right". Damn liars. I flicked my hand at them, slapping them on the arm so that they left. 

Finally, after minutes that had passed by like hours, a voice that I actually recognized was next to me, trying to urge me into looking up. More or less it wasn't the voice that I was familiar with, but what that voice said to me. The thing that only one person called me. 

"'Lanzie?"

I looked up with my face hot and moist from crying and saw that Dad, Syl, and Krit were all sitting next to me. Syl was on my direct right, Dad on my left, and Krit was kneeling on the floor in front of Dad. All three looked genuinely worried about me and scared for Mom.

Immediately, I wrapped my arms around Dad, savoring in his sweet scent of worn leather and wanting to believe that he would make everything better again. He stroked my frazzled hair and pulled me closer as we both realized that out of all the billions of people in the world, we were the only ones who had a very direct connection to Mom. "'Lanzie, it's gonna be all right now. Nothing more."

"I don't want her to die," I whispered through his jacket, which clung to my sticky face and tears. 

"She won't," he insisted and pulled away from me. "Listen to me real good, 'Lanza. Max is not going to die. I'll do anything to keep her alive…for you. I'd give her my own heart if she needed it. So whatever pessimistic thoughts you may be thinking need to be gotten rid of. She is not going to die," he told me firmly, looking directly into my bloodshot eyes. "Now, I need to go have a talk with the staff. You stay right here with Krit and Syl."

I nodded blankly as he moved away from me and to the hospital desk. Carefully, I watched him talk to the ladies and nod his head every once in awhile. One of them pointed him down a hallway, which he walked down and disappeared. Dad was charismatic; he could deal with people and coerce them into doing what he wanted. 

Syl touched my bare arm tenderly. "We're all here for you, Alanza. Nothing bad is going to happen."

I turned to her, pushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at her with pleading eyes. "How do you know?"

"She knows," Krit said to me, "because Max has been through stuff worse than this. Like Zack said, we'd all do anything to keep your mom alive for you. She may be our sister, but she's your mom."

"God…" I whispered and bent my head down again so I could catch my tears in my palms. "Why do you all have to be so nice?"  
"Because," Syl cooed as she cradled me in her arms, "we're family."

With that line, I erupted into yet another flood of tears, which was starting to become embarrassing for an eighteen-year-old. Syl merely ran her fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head as if I was a little child. Her little child. Briefly, through my tears, I wondered if she would ever have a baby with Krit after they were married. Most likely not, but maybe they would adopt. Maybe I would have a cousin.

Eventually, Dad came back and sat down beside us. I pulled myself away from Syl and gasped out loud at how white his face was. It was like he had just seen a ghost from his past. Or maybe Mom was dead now. 

Struggling so very hard to contain tears at what news he had, I asked quietly, "What'd they say?"  
He glanced from Krit to Syl, then finally let his eyes land on me. "There's a doctor here…a doctor who knows."

"Knows what?" I asked because my brain was so utterly muddled due to my sorrow and pain.

"A doctor who knows that Max is from Manticore because she worked there. This doctor will do anything to bring Max back-dead or alive." 

A strangled sob escaped my lips, and I fell back in my chair. This was getting to be far, far too much for one person in less than twenty-four hours. Krit and Syl both had wide, fearful eyes, refusing to focus on anything. Dad was looking straight at me for some unexplainable reason. 

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Dad had to add, "Therefore, she wants to make sure Max dies so that the body can be released to her for state experimentation."


	67. True Fear

"No!" I screeched so loudly that even the hospital receptionists jumped. "We cannot let her!" 

"'Lanza," Dad answered placidly. In a mere matter of seconds, all three adults around me had become lifeless blobs. Their faces were long, but hardened into what they had been trained to do during the very beginning of their lives. They were, once again, soldiers dealing with the awful and horrific truth, accepting it as it came at them.

I, though, was not a soldier. I was just a girl who had just seen her boyfriend beat up and learned that not only was her mom on the edge of death, but was wanted by a psycho from the past. Needless to say, I was not quite so calm about the news Dad had just told us. 

I flew to my feet, screaming. "We cannot let Mom die! We've come too far! Let me talk with this woman! Now!" 

Dad grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me back down to a seating position. "Listen to me, 'Lanza. You don't know who this lady is, or what she's capable of-"

"She wants to kill my mom."

Dad, ignoring my interjection continued, "I really don't even know who she is. I recognize the name from a long time ago back at Manticore, but that's about it. And, I know what people from Manticore are capable of doing." Krit and Syl nodded in agreement. "They'll kill others if it damn well fits into their itinerary."

"But…Mom?"

"I'm sure we can bargain with Doctor Evil here," Krit offered. "There has to be something else that she'll take besides Max."

"Or some_one_ else," Dad muttered.

"We need to talk to her then," I argued.

"People from Manticore don't understand talking," Syl told me. "All they care about is how something helps them. I'm surprised this doctor even told you, Zack."

"So am I. Obviously, she meant to scare us into panic, or into revealing ourselves. Maybe she knows who we are. Maybe she doesn't."

"That still doesn't give us any excuse to back down," I bit. "My mom, your sister, and," I said, making strong eye-contact with Dad, "your love. Now, I, for one, am not going to sit here and wait around until Lady Manticore decides to pull the plug on Mom."

"Alanza-" Syl began.

"Now, I'm not going to pretend that I know what went on back at Manticore nearly twenty, thirty years ago because I don't, and I don't need to know. But, what I do remember having been taught by both of my parents is that you can't give up. No matter how damn hopeless things seem, you can't give up. And, if this lady is really as evil as you all claim her to be, then we don't have much time-do we?"

My words must have struck a chord inside all three adults because Dad nodded and they rose to their feet. We walked to the front desk where he asked about the doctor that had confronted him earlier.

The receptionist, assuming that we were inquiring about Mom's state of health, pointed us down the west wing and gave us directions. Syl and Krit both gave a curt nod and hurried to catch up with Dad and I.

We found the office easily enough and entered without knocking. Dad was first, then I, and finally Krit and Syl.

A lady sat behind the desk, rearranging papers and talking on the phone about "getting proper military transportation for her". It wasn't until Dad literally pulled the cord right out of the phone that she looked up with a shocked expression on her face.

My first thought was that this was what Lydecker would've looked like if he had been female. She had short silver hair and large eyes that gaped at Dad's assertiveness. And all over her face was written a single word: bitch.

"May I help you?" she asked in a harsh undertone.

"More than you realize," Dad growled back. "Max Guevara. Don't you dare touch her. She's not your problem."

The lady paused for a moment, examining Dad before glancing back at the files and flipping through them. I saw Dad's knuckles go white against the edge of her oak desk. He would've killed her if she didn't contain such curiosity for him.

She glanced at a picture of a boy, back to Dad, then to the picture again. Her finger scanned down words that I could only catch blips of. "I should've seen it before when I had talked to you…You must be Zack," she whispered. "And, although, I'm not sure who these people are, I'm assuming they're part of the X-series as well. After all, you, Zack, depended on others more than you realized."

Dad snapped the edge of her wooden desk and curled his upper lip. "Who the hell are you?" he sneered as blood dribbled out from his split palms.

She smiled back and I felt, for the first time, true fear. Even Krit and Syl gasped instinctively from behind me. "You, X5-599, may call me Elizabeth Renfro."


	68. Let's Get Max

There was a moment of pause as I felt the air around me shift and accumulate around Dad. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low and husky. It even horrified me, who had lived with him for the majority of my life. And in all that time I had never heard him use the voice that he did at that moment. "What did you call me?" 

Elizabeth rose behind her desk and clasped her finely manicured hands on the edge of the desk so that she made direct eye contact with him. She seemed not to notice that Dad had broken part of her desk and was dripping blood onto her freshly waxed floor. "I called you by what you are: X5-599."  
"_What_ I am?"

"Yes, an X5…a genetically engineered killing machine that looks and acts like a super-powered soldier."

"Never," he growled and clenched his fist so tight that blood literally spurted out both sides from the slices in his hand. 

"Always," she retorted, which was a stupid answer on her part. In one fluid movement, Dad had slapped her so hard across the face that she tumbled to the ground, barely hanging onto her chair as a harsh red mark formed near her hairline. 

Tenderly she touched her nose, as if checking to see if it was broken and smiled, finding that it wasn't. She was thinking that Dad was weak since he had not broken her nose as he would've so many years ago. But, I certainly wasn't going to be the one to tell him that.

So, she rose back to her feet and faced Dad again. "And Max? What is she to you? Girlfriend? Wife? Lover?" she sneered.

"She's a mother," I finally said, stepping forward. There was a moment of stark silence that followed my admission. Elizabeth's eyes grew wide, then a crooked smile formed on her thin, aged lips.

"You must be the child that 'Deck died searching for."

"Perhaps," I admitted. I could see the anger flash in Dad's eyes, but I had to ignore it. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but seeing Mom alive. I thought that maybe if I was able to bargain with this psycho lady, she would free Mom.

"You are. You're his ultimate creation." She smiled warmly to herself. "I'm surprised you're alive after so many years. It was assumed that you were either an abortion or had disappeared into a far-off country."

"You wish."

"I bet you want to see your mom alive and well more than anything."

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"Well," she said, running a wrinkled finger over the bottom of her chin as she sat down in her overstuffed leather chair. "I can make that happen…under one condition."

"Which is what?"  
"I want a trade."

"A what?" I hissed, although I pretty well knew what she was getting at.

"A trade. Your father, one of these X5s, or yourself."

"Never," I growled.

"Then X5-452 will die."  
"Who?"

Elizabeth laughed evilly with a cackle that made my blood freeze. "Why, Zack, you haven't told your daughter all about Manticore? I'm ashamed. After all, she was to be the perfect soldier. I assumed that you would have filled her in on all of your days of glory back at Manticore."

Dad said nothing, but I could tell that he was quickly forming a plan inside his twisting mind. 

But, Elizabeth turned back to me. "X5-452 is your mother, dear. Max Guevara. Your father, Zack, as I'm sure you figured out is X5-599. Two of the most powerful soldiers that 'Deck ever created. And, you." She shook her head as she eyed me over like a prize to be won. "How did he ever manage to create you so well?"

"Where's my mom?" I asked.

"Ready to be taken back…unless a bargain can be reached."

"I-I can't."

"Of course not. Too much sentimentality. Absolutely sickening inside such a powerful being as yourself."

"You're deranged."

"No, my dear, I'm not. Just very happy to see that the work 'Deck started eighteen years ago has finally come back to Manticore. They'll be here any minute to take you…all of you…back where you belong."  
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad pounce. In a movement so fast that even I had trouble catching all of it, he hurled himself at Elizabeth. I didn't follow what happened next, but suddenly, she was lying on the ground, with her head twisted into an awkward position.

Dad backed away cautiously staring at his hands that had just snapped a woman's neck. For a moment, I thought he might cry, but I was wrong. In fact, the murder had just made him all the more stronger.

Krit and Syl watched him carefully, awaiting the next command, and I was merely trying to contain the last meal I had eaten from erupting out of my stomach. He had killed her. Killed her without any regrets. 

Finally, after a pause in which we all stared at the ground, unsure of what to say, Dad, the killer spoke up. "Let's get Max and leave."


	69. Some Directions

My entire body was shaking mostly from fear, but partially from nausea. Dad had killed her. I knew that that was what he had been trained to do, and I was sure that he had killed before. But, to actually see it happen? To see a woman die? The thought was paralyzing, and I grabbed the side of the desk to steady myself. Then, realizing that he had touched it with bloody hands, and her body was only a couple inches away from my feet, I jumped back. 

"She was on the phone with somebody," Krit stated.

"Which means what?" Syl asked as she tried to comfort me. By this time words couldn't come to me, and I was out of tears. The only thing I could do was stand and shake. My mind was numb, and my tongue was dry and pasty. If life could get much worse, I wasn't sure how. In fact, I felt as though I was walking through the fiery pits of Hell itself right then.

"It means that there's other people out there besides Renfro that know about Manticore technology," Dad offered. How could he be so calm? Just deducting things like nothing had happened? That life would really continue as normal.

"Are you saying that Manticore isn't dead after all?" Krit asked.

"Perhaps," Dad replied. He sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. I knew he was watching me, but I pretended not to notice. Finally, he approached me. 

He rested his hands on my shoulders and brought my chin out of my chest so that we were eye-level. "'Lanza," he said to me as if unable to still say my full name.

Blankly at looked at him, praying that I had just woken up and everything was a terrible dream. 

"What I did…to her…was necessary. She would've taken us all back to Manticore if she had had the chance."  
I nodded, but didn't accept his words in my heart. His killing hands were touching my shoulders, burning their poison into my flesh. I wanted to scream and slap him away, yet I knew how much I depended on him.

"That was the life I lived before you were born. Killing people, trying to live every day by the end of my rope. But, when you came, I vowed to change. I wouldn't murder; I wouldn't run wild. I'd be someone that you could look up to…not just as your commanding officer, but as…as…a father.

"Killing her was the first murder I'd committed since you were born. You have to believe me, 'Lanza. It was for the best…It _is_ for the best."

"Dad?" I finally asked, my voice thin and pinched from having not spoken for some time. Under normal circumstances, I would've screamed and yelled at him in anger for doing such a horrible thing. But, as it was, my mom was dying and precious time couldn't be wasted on fighting. I'd yell at him later.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember your wish…a long time ago…that you could've been the one to punish Lydecker?"

"Yes."  
"And how Mom said that Lydecker was dead and couldn't be here to see how his work had turned out?" 

"Yes," Dad acknowledged.

"And how I asked you whether or not you truly believed that Lydecker was dead?"

"Yes."  
"Well," I said to him, looking straight into his faded blue eyes. "I believe, Dad, that evil can wear many faces."

We walked swiftly down the hallway, consuming feet in a single step, because running would have made us far too conspicuous, but trudging along would have been wasting valuable time that Mom needed to survive.

With some help from friendly hospital nurses and Bling, we managed to find the room where Mom was being operated on. Dad sneaked both he and I inside, leaving Krit and Syl outside to keep lookout.

Dad and I wore the typical hospital gowns and put on surgical masks, caps, and gloves so that you couldn't see our clothes underneath. If I hadn't been so panic-stricken at that point, I would've burst into insane laughs at the sight of Dad.

We managed to find a blood bag that could be filled up by me. Unfortunately, donating that amount of blood takes a fair amount of time. Time that we didn't have. 

So, Dad grabbed a blood transfusion kit with the tube and needles. He then placed it under my sleeve. The plan was to enter into the operating room, looking as normal as possible and disconnect the tube leading from her blood bag to her body, by having me interject. Therefore, this would take her off the regular human blood and put her on my own. Hopefully, Dad said, she would be well enough to leave then.

Entering the room, my stomach turned as I saw all the blood and medical instruments lying on a table besides Mom. I couldn't see her face beneath a blanket, but all her insides were openly exposed. 

A wave of nausea spread over me, and I instinctively reached for Dad. He steadied me, and we approached Mom with the utmost authority that fake doctors could manage. I just prayed that I wasn't going to be the one lying on the operating table next.

No one questioned Dad or I; they simply assumed we were more surgeons called in for duty. So far everything was going according to plan. All I had to do was change blood transfer tubes and it would be, as Original Cindy called it, "aiight".

Then, there was a problem Dad and I hadn't anticipated. 

The line registering Mom's heart beat, went flat. I slumped to the ground as a strangled sob escaped my lips, all of my energy leaving me, as Dad grabbed me by the shoulders. A harsh beep sounded throughout the room, and everyone scrambled to grab the electric paddles or any other medical equipment so that she could be revived. Nobody seemed to notice Dad and I in the corner.

Once…twice…three times Mom's body jumped on the thin table. Each time it did so, I felt my heart leave my body, praying to all the gods in the world-even the Blue Lady-that Mom would live. My eyes were rolling inside my skull due to the fact that all of my body had lost any and all feeling. Dad was struggling to contain his emotions, but I could feel his hands tightening on my shoulders. All of the tears I had cried up to that moment would not even begin to fill the sorrow I was feeling right then.

Finally one of the doctors, splattered in Mom's blood, sighed heavily and let the paddles drop to his sides as if they weighed a thousand tons. He glanced up at the clock above my head and pinched his lips together tightly. Then, he turned to a black-haired Hispanic lady standing in the corner who held some files and a pen, and he gave her some directions.

"Record this: 8:46 a.m., September 21, 2038, date of death."


	70. Thank You

They say that when a person goes through a traumatic experience, they will do things that are out of the ordinary, usually impossible and insane. For example, a mother whose child has just been pinned under a truck will lift the entire truck up to save her child. Under normal circumstances, that mother never would have been able to pick that truck up because it weighed approximately a ton. But, there's a certain thing in the human brain called adrenaline. That little chemical can change one's life. 

Forever.

I was lying on the floor, well not technically lying because Dad was propping me up on his knee, but my body had gone completely limp when Mom's heart beat went to zero. I was starting to see things such as us going through the motorcycle race, she and Logan together in his penthouse at their first meeting in over eighteen years, Original Cindy and Mom back together as homegirls, and Mom and I, back in California, as we looked out over that filthy water as she told me that we were going to Seattle someday to meet Logan with my name meaning "ready for battle". Mom had predicted the future in more than one way and if only I had listened to her sooner.

So, I was there on the floor, unsure whether to cry or to scream during the time that that little green line became a perfect horizontal line as I drifted in and out of the real world and the next. My vision was becoming blurry, and I was unable to focus due to the shifting of the room. Mom's body was appearing to rise off the table, and Dad no longer existed. For me, life was ending as well.

But, when that doctor, that damned doctor, gave the ultimate time of death, I snapped. Snapped like a bullet fresh out of a gun.

I jumped to my feet so quickly that Dad fell back against the wall from my momentum. "NO!" I screamed at all of them. All of the doctors who gazed at me had wide gaping eyes like I was some kind of mental patient. "No! She will not die!"

"Miss-" one of the doctors began, trying to reach for my arm.

"Shut the hell up!" I snapped, my face on fire, and I slapped him back with a powerful backhand. He tumbled, but was fortunately caught by one of his assistants. Never before I had felt so infuriated, so sorrowful, and so calm in all of my life. Never before had I felt the adrenaline rushing through my veins like a steady heartbeat. Never before had I felt so much power. I was that powerful being that Lydecker had created eighteen years ago to lead his troops into battle. But, I was also so much more than that.

The doctors backed away nervously, unsure whether or not to approach me. I could hear Dad coming up from behind me. But, he didn't bother to stop me from doing what I had to do. For once in my life, he didn't intervene, yet supported me in my decision.

From Mom's soul, I heard, _Alanza…love you…Alanza…love you…_ That was all of the push I needed. Mom wasn't fully dead after all. She couldn't be, not if she had sent me a message from beyond the grave. 

I remembered the I.V. that I had on me. Quickly, not really knowing what I was doing, I switched the tube that I had with the one from the blood bag so that my blood would flow directly into Mom. I then inserted the needle into my arm and shoved the other one near Mom's heart, closest to what appeared to be a large artery.

I'll admit it, I'm not a doctor and my medical knowledge is limited to that of what I have seen on TV. So, at that moment, I was acting on the only thing that I had: instincts. And I could only hope that that would be enough.

"Miss, we'll have to ask you to stop that," one of the doctors said to me as my blood snaked through the clear tubes, staining them red. 

I was about ready to say something, when Dad bit back, "She knows more about what she's doing than you ever will."

"But-but, that's contaminated blood."

"Let hell it is," Dad growled at the same time that I told the doctors to eat shit.

Finally, my blood reached Mom's body. The line on the heart monitor still read zero, but I was determined not to give up. I would die before I would give up on bringing her back. At least then, we would both be together again.

I must have sat there for over an hour, letting the blood drain out of me and into Mom as Dad held the doctors at bay. My head was pounding and my muscles were starting to quiver. Beads of perspiration dotted my lip, while my skin changed from its usual tan color to a wicked purple. 

Finally, a miracle.

Blip. 

Blip. 

Blip. 

Mom's heart monitor jumped as if it was doing some kind of acrobatic trick. One of her cooling fingers twitched spasmodically, then fell back down. In a matter of minutes, that zero went to an even forty…then sixty…and finally ninety. My damned genetically hyped up blood cells that contain a stem cell saturation so thick you could probably see them without a microscope was actually repairing Mom's damaged body. 

The head doctor gasped a "My God", while the Hispanic lady fell down on her knees and began muttering in Spanish. 

Dad clasped me firmly by the shoulder, and I glanced behind to see that he had tears forming in his usually placid eyes. And, just before I fainted from my own lack of blood, he whispered to me, "Thank you, 'Lanza. Thank you."


	71. Never Left You

I awoke in a stiff hospital bed as bright sunlight came in through an opened window and blinded me for a moment. There was a pleasant breeze blowing about and it tousled my hair, which, to my embarrassment, had some of my drool on. Quickly, I wiped it away and glanced around the room.

There was the low murmur of hospital voices out in the hallway, which I was unable to see who those voice belonged to, due to a curtain being in my way. Unfortunately, my arms weren't quite long enough to push it out of the way, and I was too tired to get out of bed and move it.

So, I let it stay there. 

I was still in my dress from the night before, and I wasn't even under the starched hospital blankets. There was a drip I.V. above my head and a bright tube of blood drained into my arm-but it wasn't from a blood bag. 

Dad, asleep, rested in a chair beside me, letting his blood flow into me. His head was leaned back with mouth opened wide. There was a slight shadow of facial hair on him and the blond mop on his head was as messy as could be.

With stiff fingers, I clamped the blood tube off so that the flow would stop and reached over to wake up Dad. It took three tries of shaking his knee before he grunted and let his eyelids flutter open.

"Well, good morning to you too," I said to him.

"It was only a nap," he argued.

"For how long?"

"At the most, twenty minutes."

"I see."

"Moment of weakness," he said as if that was the answer that I had been looking for.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the blood transfusion needle out of my arm. Did I dare to ask it? There was one question rolling around in my mind that both panicked and excited me. I just had to hope that the answer I wanted would be a good one.

"You ok?" Dad asked me as he too, removed the bloody connection between us.

"As well as could be. Just a headache."

"You want some pills?"

"Huh?"

"The nurse…whatever her name was…gave them to me. Said that you might need them."

"What are they?"

He twisted around in his chair and picked up a tiny measuring cup that they usually put liquids in and give to patients. But inside mine was a couple of tiny red and yellow pills. Dad shook the cup so that the pills rolled around inside of it. 

"Looks like Tylenol," he commented. "But I can't be sure. I thought that company went out of business. You still want 'em?"

"Hand them over." He gave me the cup.

"Let me get some water."

I, by the time he had risen from his chair to retrieve the water so that I could swallow the pills with ease, had already gulped down the pills dry.

"Ok, then, don't let me get some water," he commented sarcastically and sat back down in the chair, crossing his arms. 

Using some under-stuffed pillows, I managed to prop myself up against the weak headboard as I faced Dad. There was a trivial moment of silence before he spoke up again.

"Max and Case were here a little bit ago, looking for you."

"How'd they know I was here?" I asked.

"Something about James and you in a gang accident…he must've called them."

"Crap," I muttered, remembering that I hadn't told Dad about that. 

"Gang accident? I'm assuming that you were attacked in the streets. James tried to defend you, but was knocked unconscious. Therefore, you, seeing that he wouldn't be able to find out about you, took care of business, and drove him to the hospital. Correct?"

I nodded weakly.

"Not that hard to figure out. Logical thinking; that's all a problem usually takes."

"I see."

"You want me to go and get them, then?"

"Who?"

"Case and Max."

"Oh. No." I glanced out the window where a couple of fat birds had landed on the tree branch outside. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"How-how's Mom?"

He observed me carefully as if questioning whether or not I was ready for the truth. Then, he rose to his feet and walked to the end of the bed.

"Dad?" I questioned again.

Then, he grabbed onto the edge of the curtain that split the room in half. "See for yourself," he told me and, with a dramatic flick of his wrists, caused the curtain to open.

There, on the other side of the bed, Mom laid on her back with her head tilt towards me. Her eyes were open despite the tubes up her nose, I.V. and blood bag attachment. She smiled as we met eyes.

"Alanza…" she whispered.

I burst into tears right then and there. Yanking my own I.V. needle out of my hand, I scrambled over to her on my knees. 

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed the top of my forehead. My tears were wetting her bed sheets, but hers were falling on my hair like heaven's rain. "You," I began and wiped away the tears as my throat clenched and unclenched from the heavy emotions. "You came back."

Mom pulled me away and held me at arm's length so that we looked straight into each other's dripping eyes. I had never been so happy in all of my life and the warm tears falling down my cheeks felt soothing to my worn skin. "Alanza," she said to me before she broke down into joyous sobs, "I never left you."


	72. Gurantee It

I let myself lay in Mom's arms for an eternity. "We came into the room," I told Mom, knowing for the first time in an extremely long time that everything truly was going to be all right, "and I couldn't even see your face. You were just this…this…blob. I thought you were going to die, and then when the doctor gave you a date of death…I just lost it."

Mom laughed, which surprised me. "Guess I disappointed him. Definitely screwed up their records."

"Guess so."

Dad came up from behind me and pulled up a chair. There we were, a family of three once again. Only, I knew that Dad would be leaving soon, and then Mom and I would be left alone again. I could never forgive him for leaving like he did. Despite the fact that deep now I really did love him like that, forgiveness for that action wouldn't come. Never.

"Max?" Dad finally asked.

She turned to look at him, but didn't let her hands stray from my knot of hair, nor did I move away from her. "Yes, Zack?"

"Are you going to be fine now?"

"I've alive-aren't I?"

"Yes."

"Zack, look, it's nice that you started caring about me, but everything will be ok."

"I'm not saying that I didn't care about you before. I always have."

"Some way to show it," she responded.

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

I resisted an urge to smile. We were all just bawling a minute ago about Mom's death and now she and Dad were fighting again. What a screwy family we made out to be.

"It's supposed to mean that you leave and come just as you please."

"You know that's the way I've always been."

"You have a family now."

"A little bit late to start that talk-isn't it, Max? We've been through this before."

"Of course," she replied and rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"What? You want me to just stick around now that there's Manticore people after us?"

"Wait," Mom said, pulling away from me and pointing her finger directly at Dad in disbelief. "What did you just say?" 

"I said that I have to start searching the country for Manticore people now that we've been tipped."

"Tipped? How?"

"Remember anybody named Elizabeth Renfro?" Dad asked her with an arched eyebrow.

"Shit…"

"Exactly. She was after you. Wanted to make sure that you would die so that your body could go back to Manticore. Needless to say, she didn't get the body."

"What happened to her?"

Dad didn't answer, instead he glanced at the floor and didn't look up until he knew that she knew. I saw the recognition flash across Mom's face as to what he had done. "Oh God…" she whispered as her hand covered her mouth in horror.

"She was on the phone with other people, arranging a vehicle to take you back. That means there's others out there, looking for us."

"Not exactly the news that I needed to hear right now. But, I suppose, it could be worse."

"How?" I asked her.

"Just trust me, Alanza, it could be worse."

"We need to leave Seattle as soon as possible. Get out of the country perhaps. I'm sure that bitch sent your medical records over to the base-if that's even still around," Dad told us, although he was facing Mom.

"No," Mom responded. "We can't leave."

"Max, it's not safe here anymore. They'll come for all of us. And, now that all of the remaining X-series-or what we know is remaining-are in Seattle, they find one of us, they find all of us. Chain reaction. It's too dangerous."

"But, I don't want to leave," I protested.

"'Lanza-" he began.

"No. All my life I've heard nothing except how scary this Lydecker dude is. Maybe he's dead, maybe he's not. But, what I do know is that, apparently, Manticore isn't as dead as we thought it was."

"You're not listening," Dad said to me.

"No, you're not the one listening. You have both trained me to be this superior warrior that's supposed to fight off anything at anytime. But, yet, we run whenever we here that there's trouble.

"I was born in Seattle, I left Seattle for California, and now I'm back in Seattle. And, personally, I intend to stay in Seattle. Sure, you may both be out of training, but I'm not. I know all the moves because you have both taught them to me. If you're afraid, then leave, Dad. You've done it for most of my life; your departure won't change anything now. But, I'm not leaving. I'll stay and fight these people, even if it means I die doing so. _That's_ what you both taught me, and I'm not going to turn away now."

Dad looked at me, then glanced over to Mom. He said nothing for a moment, although we all knew that we were waiting for him to do the speaking. "Fine," he snorted. "You can stay here. But I'm not. And, my leaving, unlike you said, will change something this time. I guarantee it." 


	73. A Man Named

A moment later, there was a knock at the door. "C'min," Mom called, straining to lift her head.

Bling poked his head in. "There's someone here to see you, Mrs. Guevara."

Mom paused before answering, unsure of who would know that she would be in the hospital. "Let them in, I guess."

He nodded curtly, then closed the door behind him. Mom ran her fingers through her hair. "Who in the world…?"

Dad snorted. "I've got a pretty good guess as to who it'll be."

"Zack," Mom hissed. Just then, the door to her room reopened and in stepped Logan. His hair was matted and mussed as if he hadn't even bothered to comb it that morning, while his eyes were sunk into their sockets, ringed with black circles. I had never seen him look so awful.

He glanced around the room before his eyes landed on Mom lying in the bed. Immediately, he flew towards her and wrapped her up in his arms. "Oh, God, Max…you're alive," he whispered as they embraced.

Dad, after he got over the shock of seeing Logan up and walking, gave another of his angry snorts, causing only me to look up at him. "My guess was right." Then, he turned sharply on his heels and strode out the door, face clenched tightly to prevent any lingering emotions from escaping. Now that he and Logan had seen each other, Dad had to retain his "upright and strong soldier look". Letting Logan know that he had cried over Mom would be worse than death for Dad.

I watched Dad leave, then directed my attention to Mom and Logan. He was sitting on her bed, by her hips, while leaning over and kissing her and crying all the while. She, too, was pitiful looking. They were both sobbing and kissing and hugging. 

"How'd you find me?" she asked him.

"Bling called me…I thought you were dead, Max…and gone forever…" This brought on another fresh round of tears. I rolled my eyes. Adults. 

"Hey Mom?" I asked. "Mom?" When she didn't respond to my callings, I shrugged. "Look, I'm gonna be outside if you need me-ok? Great."  
With that, I got up from my chair and followed Dad out the door. Even though I didn't agree with Dad's gruffness towards Logan, I certainly wasn't going to sit there and watch Mom and Logan play smoochy face for hours.

I found Dad waiting down an adjoining wing as he sat in one of the stiff hospital chairs. One of his long legs was tucked underneath the chair while the other was lying out in front of him as if he meant to trip some unknowing hospital staff person. He was literally sprawled in the chair, but was looking straight up at the ceiling while he sat there.

Sitting down next to him, I looked up at the ceiling with him. "Find anything interesting?"

He gave a snort of disgust, which was starting to become a rather annoying habit of his and looked directly at me. "Let me guess, they were sobbing and making out like the end of the world had happened."

"Your guesses are rather accurate today-aren't they?"  
"I can only try."

"Do you really hate Logan that much?" I asked Dad after a moment of silence.

"Hate's a rather strong word."

"Well, do you?"

"They have a tiled ceiling," Dad replied, looking back upwards.

"Don't change the subject."

"Reminds me of the ceiling back at Manticore."

"Speaking of Manticore…" I began, then sighed and waited until he made eye contact with me.

"What?"

"Dad, we need to have a talk. About that lady, who she was, and what the hell happened to a man named Donald Lydecker."


	74. Ever Imagined

Dad looked at me closely, studying my face before he decided to speak. It was like a staring contest between the two of us in the sense that neither one would look away. But, two people came down the hallway, forcing us both to avert our attention.

Case and Max hurried towards us, with Max in the lead. I jumped up to greet her and we embraced tightly.

"Girl, are you 'k?" 

I nodded. "I'm fine. Have you been to see James?"

"We were just 'dere," she replied.

"How's he looking?"

"Not too bad. He's pretty pissed that he blacked out on ya."

I laughed for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. "Typical James. He's such a gentleman."

"That's notta bad thing-is it?"

"Of course not," I responded. "I'd rather have him like that than a Neanderthal."

"A monkey with crusty underwear!" Max blurted.

"What? Where'd the monkey come into the picture?"

"And the crusty underwear?" Case asked.

Max shrugged, continuing to laugh as it shook her whole body. "Although, James is really far too mucha gentlemin to have crusty underwear."

"Ok…a little bit too much sugar," I told her as she sat down, giggling uncontrollably. I then turned to Case, who was standing slightly off to the side. "What did you feed her this morning?"

He shrugged. Suddenly, as if he had remembered something important, he pointed at me with his thumb. "I got to talk to you 'bout something."

"What?"

"Later," was all he said. 

That's when I remembered that Dad was still in the picture. By this time he had risen up from the chair and was eyeing my friends and I over suspiciously. I could see the indifference in his eyes as he watched the three of us.

Clearing my throat, I inched towards Dad and held out my hand politely, motioning to him. "Dad, this is Case and Max. Max and Case, this is my dad, Zack."

Max waved and gave a faint hello between giggles. She was pretty much being ignored by everyone who figured that it was better off to leave her alone. She was, after all, rather explosive prone. 

Case, on the other hand, had dropped his chin to the ground, and was staring blankly at Dad, more shocked than anything. "You-you-you're Zack?"

Dad nodded.

"Do you remember me? Remember my dad, Charlie, when Mom died?"

"Yes, I do."

I could sense that Case was going to start getting all emotional, but I decided to let it go. It was his battle after all, not mine or anyone else's. "You don't know how much it meant to me that you came to us…after Mom died."

"It was the least that I could do. It was my fault that Tinga died. I had to do something."

"You really didn't. But, you did. And you helped clear the past up for Dad and I. You made it so much better."

"I still hurt you both."

"Mr.…?"

"Call me Zack."

"Zack, I'm going to be eternally hurt, but you let a scar form over the wound. I didn't know where my Mom went, neither did my dad. We were both so alone and scared, and then you came to us, and you told us that she…that she…" Case bit down on his lip, inhaled sharply, then continued. Like he said, there was scar, but it was still a wound nonetheless. "That she had died.

"And you told me that there were others 'like me'. Why…God…why did you have to be so damn right?" Case hissed, although it was not in anger. Max, by this time, had ceased the laughing and was watching Case intently. Dad was fixated on this mere boy in front of him who was bringing up something that neither of them really wanted to talk about, but needed to be resolved.

"My girlfriend's part X5, one of my best friends is nearly a double X5, and you knew, you knew, didn't you? That we would meet up like this?"  
Dad shook his head. "I didn't know."

"Then how could you be so right? When you came to us in Europe, you nearly predicted my future. Told me I'd meet others, that Mom would never leave me, that Lydecker would always be connected to me…Why did you have to be so right? Why?"

"I-I don't know," Dad acknowledged.

Case turned away from Dad and wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes away, so that Dad wouldn't see them. He had waited twenty long years to confront my father, and now that he had, the pain was more than he had imagined.

Dad, surprisingly, rested his hand on Case's shoulder, taking him under his wing. "Case?"

Slowly, under Dad's guidance, Case turned back around to face Dad. It wasn't until they met eyes that Dad began to talk.

"Lydecker's dead, that part of what I told you is finished. Just because your genetics are related to Lydecker's doing, doesn't mean that he can get you anymore. It's not true; he's dead, Case, long dead."

Case paused and examined Dad's words, then he took a step back. "That's where you're wrong," he whispered as the tears glittered in his eyes, ready to overflow. His face was stiff and jagged, poised to bring about anger or sadness.

"What?" Dad asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in question. "What do you mean?"

Case backed away even more. And, just before he turned and fled down the hallway with Max in tow, he answered, "He's closer than you could ever imagine."


	75. So Are You

"All right, guys," I whispered, "just wait 'til I give the signal." There was a giggle from Max, but the surrounding people immediately shushed her.

It was about two to three days since Mom's hospital emergency, and basically my whole family-Mom, Jace, Victor, Max, Case, Krit, Syl, Brin, Charlie, and I-were gathered behind the kitchen counter as we waited in anticipation. The lights in the apartment were shut off as the early evening arrived. Only candlelight from the kitchen table kept the room fairly lit.

Suddenly the door handle turned, and I hissed for everyone to be quiet. Dad stepped into the room, called, "'Lanza? Max?", and then turned on the light.

When he finally turned on the light, all of us jumped up, screaming and yelling happily, "Surprise!" Max grabbed a handful of paper confetti and threw it in the air, so that we were all covered in it. Jace and Victor both blew on party horns

Dad obviously didn't see what the surprise was about and, as he plucked confetti out of his hair, eyed me cautiously like a police officer would do to a burglar suspect. "'Lanza, what's going on here?"

"Look, Dad," I pointed over to the table where a magnificent cake adorned with candles sat. "It's yours."

"Mine? What for? Is this some kind of trick?"

I laughed. "Dad, it's your birthday."

"My birthday? That was about a week or two ago. Besides, who told you?"

"Mom."

"Max?" Dad surprisingly laughed too. "I can't believe you told her!"

"She was asking," Mom replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Now, get over here and have some cake. It's chocolate-"

"-with nuts and extra sprinkles," Syl offered helpfully. "We all know how you have that weakness for chocolate."

"I do?" Dad asked, pulling off his coat and flopping it over a chair before sitting down. "Since when?"

"Since you ate my chocolate bunny at Easter," I answered as Mom pushed the cake towards Dad.

"It was Max!" Dad accused.

"Uh-huh, blame it always on me," Mom groaned sarcastically. "Now blow all of these out."

"All forty-one!" Syl cried from behind me.

"Don't remind me…" Dad complained. 

For a moment, we all watched in anticipation as Dad stared at the gleaming flames. I realized then that perhaps the candles reminded him of the fire back at Manticore. But, I dismissed the fear, and held my breath as he inhaled to blow out all forty-one candles. It was going to be quite a feat.

"You got a wish in mind?" Charlie asked just before Dad exhaled.

Dad paused, thought, then nodded. I wondered if he still had the same wish that was in his mind that night a long month and a half ago. I could picture the scene in my mind easily and felt anticipation burn in my stomach. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, not one to worry about the past. Even Dad was happy. 

Then, why couldn't I forget?

__

"I was in Phoenix a couple weeks ago," he began and took a sip from the bottle. "While I was there, I heard about this really bad car crash. I mean, really bad. Apparently, some guy had gotten over in the wrong lane and hit somebody else head-on, causing them both to spin into a nearby ditch full of water-"

"What does this have to do with a wish?" I asked him.

"I'm getting to that.

"Anyhow, I was in the area at the time, only about a half a mile from where it happened. So, I went over to investigate, just for the hell of it-y'know? Both of the people were dead from head injuries. One of them was a girl, not far off from your age. And the other? I didn't get his whole name, but later found out that it was an old guy with the name D. Lydecker."

I froze, not sure of what to say. My mouth suddenly felt very dry and pasty, like someone had swabbed it out with a cloth. I swallowed before asking, "And your wish?"

"I know it's cruel, but sometimes I wish I could've been the one to kill the bastard," he replied with a hoarse laugh as he took another swig of the beer.

I eyed Dad closely, the moment frozen in time, thinking to myself, Are you still going to make that same wish, Dad? Is that what you're really wishing for? Or is it something better?

Finally, with a big gush of air, he blew out all of the candles, scattering smoke across the room. Max, standing on the other side of the cake with her arm linked with Case's, pretended to gag on the smoke.

"I can't breathe over here! Smoke inhalation! I'm going to die!"

"We'll have Case give you mouth to mouth," Krit laughed, just as Case turned a furious shade of red, blushing with embarrassment. Max merely giggled at the comment and gave Case a peck on the cheek.

"Well, then, let's cut this cake," Jace said, leaning over to cut it as Dad pushed his chair out of the way. He turned to Mom, who was standing on my other side with me in the middle. Arching an eyebrow, a cocky look that I hadn't seen before in Dad came over his face. 

"Max?"

"Yeah, Zack?"  
"Do I get a birthday kiss?"

For a moment, I truly thought she was going to slap him across the face. Apparently, so did he. Dad backed away nervously, laughing timidly. 

"Just kidding, Max, just kidding."

"No. C'mere."

"What the-" he began, but was cut off as Mom kissed him. She clasped his face in her hands, and they both stiffened. They didn't pull away for a long time, and I wondered what kind of ocean Mom was swimming in. Perhaps one of sweet flavor just like strawberry jam.

Releasing him, they met eye-to-eye and I saw their faces soften, remembering what they had had so many years ago. Finally, Dad cleared his throat, throwing them out of their trances and Mom whispered, "Happy Birthday, Zack."

We loaded ourselves up on cake and cheap cola that Krit and Syl had managed to buy from an unnamed place. By the time the gooey, delicious cake that had been smothered in Hershey's Cocoa frosting was gone, we were all belching from the bubbly cola, but, in truth, no one really cared.

I was using my finger to finish off the rest of the frosting left on my plate when there was a tap on my arm. Looking up, I saw Case beside me. "I need to talk to you," he whispered under his breath although no one would have heard him above the noise anyhow.

Glancing over, I saw that Max was detained with Krit and Syl. All three were laughing until their faces turned blue. Setting my plate down, I followed Case to where he dragged me into the bathroom.

He locked the door and waited a moment before turning on the light. His eyes were shifty and he couldn't decide between sitting on the toilet or standing up.

"Uh, what's up with the bathroom?" I asked suspiciously, seeing his discomfort.

"I don't want anyone to hear me."

"Hear you do what? Sit on the pot and look like an idiot? What's wrong? Case, you can tell me. C'mon, something's bugging you, I tell it," I said to him, sitting down in an Indian-style on the floor beside his feet.

"Nobody knows this yet. Well, nobody besides Max and me, that is."

"Not even James?"

"Not even James. I need a…well, a female opinion on this. Max refuses to admit to it, and James won't know how to handle it."

"So shoot."

"Okay," he sighed, then laid his hands out like he was offering me something. "Here's the deal: God…I so do not want to talk about this…but, anyhow, have you noticed that Max has been putting on a little weight lately?"

I shook my head.

"Well, she has. She denies it, of course, saying that it's just because she's been eating more, but that's not it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I live with her, after all, I would see if she's been eating more."

"Good point," I commented.

"But, anyhow," he sighed heavily, puffing his cheeks out and blowing air out that fluffed his hair upwards, "Alanza, how should I say it?"

"Like this: Alanza, yadda, yadda, yippa, yippa. Now start talking, I got to give Dad his present, plus I'm afraid there might be no more cake for seconds."

"That was good cake."

"You're telling me."

"I got a present to give him too," Case answered, rising to his feet. I grabbed him by the knee and forcefully shoved him back down into a sitting position.

"And where are you going?"

"Cake?" he asked innocently.

"No. C'mon, Case, just please tell me what's up."

"Max is pregnant."

There was long pause before either of us said anything. At first I was almost sure that I had made it up and this was just some scary dream. (Hello? Dad being fairly normal happy? Yep, that's a nightmare right there.) But, finally, I spoke up, clearing my throat before doing so.

"Excuse me?"

"She's pregnant."

"You're kidding-right?"

"No."

"How'd it happen?"

"How do you think it happened?"

"Oh," I replied.

"She doesn't seem to think so. Thinks I'm making it all up."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She's taken, what?, three pregnancies tests all that came up positive. She says they're faulty." Case shrugged. "I was hoping you could talk to her about it."

"Me?"

"You're her best friend."

"You're her live-in-boyfriend."

"You're a girl."

"Ok, I can't argue with you about that one…unless you have some secret lifestyle you've kept hidden from us all this time."

"Alanza…"

"Just kidding. But, yeah, I'll talk to her 'bout it." I leaned back against the shower, wrapping my arms around my now tucked-up knees. "Wow. A baby. That's so cool."

"I don't want to keep it."

"Why?"

"Alanza, you of all people, are asking why an X5 baby shouldn't be kept?"

"You're only part X5, though."

"Still, you take one-half, plus one-half, which equals one. It'll still be screwed up more than we can imagine. I don't want it to live the life we've lived. Freak. Weirdo. Monkey." He shook his head, exasperated with the thought. "People are cruel."

"Max's told me."

He eyed me suspiciously. "You'll talk to her, then?"

"Yeah, Case, I will. Look, if you don't want the baby, maybe I can adopt it."

Case shook his head fervently, refusing my offer, but not verbally saying it. We both knew that that wasn't possible. Maybe he could get rid of the baby, but the guilt would always be there. He had lost a parent, and I believed that he didn't want his child to lose one as well.

Then, he smiled sadly, trying to be happy as his mixed up mind screamed odd and senseless directions at him. "Well, then, let's go see if there's seconds, shall we? Plus, there's presents, and, knowing Zack, we're going to have to strap him down and force them on him." He sighed. "Your dad is so stubborn."

I shook my head. "So are you Case, so are you."


	76. Plane to Catch

When Case and I had exited the bathroom, we found Dad, sitting on the couch, surrounded by the remainder of the guests. Charlie was wheeling out a large suitcase to Dad, who had his eyes covered like a little child.

Case went to Max and swung an arm around her shoulder, pulling them together. I, meanwhile, stood behind Mom who was seated to the direct left of Dad. She looked up as I entered, patted my hand as it grasped the top of the chair and said nothing more. I believe she knew everything anyhow-she usually did.

"All right, Zack, you can open," Syl said as Charlie set the suitcase in front of Dad. 

"A suitcase?" he questioned upon seeing it.

"You travel enough," Charlie reasoned. 

"Who's it from?" Dad asked, leaning over and searching the suitcase for a nametag of sort. 

"Me, Case, and Charlie," Max said to Dad. He looked up in surprise as if he had suddenly noticed Max for the first time. Nodding in affirmation, Dad proceeded to put the suitcase off to the side so that it wouldn't be in the way.

"Hold on," Krit said, raising a hand to stop Dad. "There's more in there."

"Where?"

"In the suitcase."

Dad looked confused for a second, then dragged the suitcase back over in front of him. He then zipped it open on the side and suddenly, wrapped presents came tumbling out. Jumping back in shock, Dad seemed to be experiencing a true birthday for the first time in his life.

Picking up one of the gifts, Dad juggled it lightly in his hand. "Heavy, fairly solid," he mused. "I wonder…"

"I wonder if you'll ever open anything," I spoke up for the first time.

Surprisingly, Dad laughed, and ripped open the decorated paper. Out fell an electric razor along with a bottle of shaving cream and a washcloth. We all giggled, especially me as I remembered how he had been trying to grow facial hair when he had first arrived after fifteen years. 

"Ok? Who is this from?" Dad asked in between laughs.

"Jace and I," Victor said.

"We figured it might be some use to you on all of your interstate excursions," Jace added.

"There's pink on it," Dad complained.

"Technically," Max said, "it's magenta."

"It'll bring out your feminine side, Zack, you know how all the ladies love a man like that," Krit said.

Dad grinned, setting the razor behind him on the couch, "Yeah, just what I needed." But even I could see that the smile was fake because he wouldn't dare risk hurting Mom.

The next present was a small box that wasn't wrapped, but silver unto itself. This one, Dad opened with caution as if something might actually come out and bite his hand. 

"This one's from me," Mom said, leaning forward in her chair.

Dad glanced up at her, but didn't reply as he opened it up. Inside was an expensive-looking digital watch complete with two buttons on each side. Already, the seconds were being counted as he lifted it up and strapped it on. He studied it for a moment, then began to speak, but Mom interrupted him.

"You're gone so much I figured that you might want to know what time it is when you're out there, alone."

"Thank you, Max."

"You're welcome," she answered almost too curtly, regaining her upright sitting position.

He then pulled out a small, lumpy looking little thing that was wrapped in a brown paper sack. This one was opened with tenderness that Dad usually didn't display, and he pulled out a knitted scarf.

"It's from me," Brin told him, speaking for the first time since the party began. "I'm sorry it's so…cheap…I didn't have a lot of money."

Dad smiled in reply, flashing his genetically engineered perfected teeth. Then, with the attitude of a gallant warrior, he swished the scarf around his neck. "Brin, dear, it's beautiful," he whispered to her, leaning in to peck her on the cheek.

She blushed, and mumbled a tiny thank you. We all knew that her health wasn't the best, so we didn't push her too much. After all, in a private conversation without her, we had estimated she had, at the most, six months to live. Everything for her was supposed to be perfect.

Up next was my gift. I had spent a fair amount of time searching for the gift that would be just right for Dad. He didn't have any hobbies, well, I suppose he did, but how do you tell the lady at your local JCPenny's that your dad has an interest in killing people while running across the country to save his siblings from psycho men? Yup, that'd go over real well.

As Dad tore open the wrapping paper, I saw his face flicker with confusion at what lay in his lap. "'Lanza, it's a-"

"Leather jacket," I finished, stepping forward and kneeling in front of him on the couch. "I know. You already have one. I know that. You don't need to repeat it."

"Then why'd you get me one?"

"First of all, it's your birthday and you needed a gift. Secondly, the one you're wearing now is over twenty years old, burned and crisped worse than the marshmallows up at camp, torn and ripped." I laid my hand over his, noticing for the first time that mine were slightly larger than his were. "You need to let go of the past."

We met eyes before I turned and walked back over to Mom. Dad followed me with his eyes, then cleared his throat, seeing that the suitcase was empty.

"Thank you very much everyone for the gifts. They really weren't necessary, but thank-"

"Hold on, right there," Krit said, stepping forward. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. "These are for you too."

Dad paused before opening the envelope, and he pulled out three tickets. I, unfortunately, couldn't see what they were for. "Krit," he replied, "they're plane tickets."

"I know."

"There's three of them."

"Yes."

"What for?"

Krit inhaled deeply, then let it back out. "Syl and I want you to come out to New York City with us to see us on the Broadway stage. There's one there for you, 'Lanzie, and Maxie. You three are all invited out."

"Krit," Mom said to him, "I don't think I'll be joining you."

I could hear the mental cry of Dad so clearly it would've burst my eardrums had he been truly speaking it: Logan. Some days, telepathy was annoying and painful.

"Well, then, Zack, you have an extra ticket, pick your person."

Dad turned to me. "You comin' 'Lanza?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

He then turned back to the circle of people around him. "I'd really like all of you to come, but there's one person that I need to spend some more time with." He held the ticket out to that person. "Would you like to come?"

Case smiled. "Yes, Zack, I would."

Syl then clapped her hands together. "Well, let's get going! We got a plane to catch!"


	77. Can't Tell You

New York City. To say that it was one simple city, would probably be the most horrendous lie anyone has ever told. It wasn't just the symbol of American freedom and respect; it was every single culture of the world compacted together to form a city where people could live next together. 

As I walked out of the airport, with Case not far behind, and Dad hanging back with Syl and Krit, I never thought that I'd see such a city. 

It's not like I've never seen a large city before. Living in California for eighteen years of your life and frequently traveling the other states, you see Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego. I've seen all three, and to say the least, I wasn't all that impressed. They're all filled with huge, towering skyscrapers that are constantly falling apart, while gangs are on killing sprees every night of every day. The places are overrun by rats and vermin, which breed to produce any kind of bacteria and virus imaginable. Babies cling to their crack mother's breast, hungry and skinny, almost knowing that they will become food for their fathers soon enough. Sewage lines the streets in heaps, yet people sleep there because they have no where else to go. The cities, dead, having been murdered by the electromagnetic pulse, are now in their process of rotting. It's only a manner of time because everything comes crashing down.

But New York City was not Los Angeles. It was not San Francisco. Nor was it San Diego. Hell, it wasn't even Seattle.

The city seemed unaffected by the pulse, as if it had never happened. I believed it was because the European nations were able to help the eastern cities easier, and, also, the pulse was off the western coast anyhow. 

Building shimmered in the early morning sunlight, blinding me for a moment so that I was forced to cover my eyes until I adjusted. The streets were kept fairly clean of obsessive garbage and filth. Every person I saw was at least dressed. Although there were beggars, they too, were better off than the people I had seen back in California. Rows and rows of chic fashion centers lined the darkly paved roads. I had to be dreaming. A city like this couldn't exist in this year.

"Well," Syl said, stepping forward in front of us all, "welcome to New York City."

There were five of us total. Three adults and two, well, young adults. James didn't have a problem with me going away for approximately a week other than the fact that we would be so many miles apart. He insisted that he trusted Case, and he trusted me, since we would be sharing a hotel room. (Krit and Syl didn't believe it was appropriate for me to be in the same room as Dad, so he got his own special "Birthday Boy" room.) I never told James that doing anything sexual to Case would be incredibly disgusting in my mind because we were related. Telling James that Case and I were cousins would lead into the whole "G.I. with his special deluxe action packed features" deal. I didn't need that right now.

"Where should we go first?" Krit asked, smiling his perfect smile. His teeth were so beautifully white, it was almost depressing.

"To the hotel room," Case offered. "My arms are going to fall off if I have to carry these suitcases much farther."

"I say we get something to eat, too. Plane food sucks," I whined. 

"How about we get room service at the hotel?" Syl questioned.

"That'll work," I replied.

"Good." 

From the airport, we grabbed a taxi, which barely fit all of us, but we managed to squeeze in. Syl was basically sitting on Krit's lap, with Dad in the front passenger seat, and Case and I trying to breathe in the back. The driver insisted that we take two cabs because he didn't feel comfortable with having Dad sit next to him. Plus, he didn't want to get pulled over for having too many people in the car.

Krit handed him a twenty and said to step on it. The driver said nothing more.

Shortly after, we arrived at the hotel. Case and I stood gaping in amazement, while Dad had that "something's not right here and I don't like it" look on his face.

"You didn't say we were coming to such a nice place," he told Krit and Syl.

"No?" Krit asked, pretending to be astonished as he helped Case with our luggage. "Guess I must've left that one out." He snapped his fingers in disgust. "Sorry, Zack. You might actually have to sleep in first class for once."

Dad bit his tongue, grabbing his bags in an irritated manner, and pushing through the revolving door. Unfortunately, he ended up getting smacked in the nose as the door kept on moving and he didn't. I could already tell that his birthday trip wasn't going to be "Happy Zack". 

We took the elevator to our rooms, which were on the fourth floor. Syl and Krit were in room 35D, Dad in 36D, while Case and I shared 37D. Immediately, Dad went to his room to pout. Krit and Syl said that we could order anything we wanted because it was on them and they just wanted us to enjoy ourselves.

I was debating what kind of juice to order as Case struggled with unlocking the door.

"Do you think I should order orange or apple?" I asked him.

"Orange or apple what?" 

"Juice."

"Juice?" he echoed as the door finally swung open. 

I picked up my bags and followed him inside. "Yeah, juice, I don't why, but I-Oh. My. God."

To say the room was nice, would be a severe understatement. There were-fortunately-two twin beds covered in a rich magenta and forest green comforter etched with gold. The deep green carpeting was fuzzier than I was when I didn't shave, while two large windows gave a perfect view of what Syl had called Central Park, although I didn't see what was so central about it. 

A bathroom, complete with shower and toilet that actually worked, glistened in white that adjoined the main bedroom. Tiny guest soaps and shampoos were placed carefully in a wire twisted basket. Picking a soap up, I sniffed at it carefully. It smelled like flowers-something that Syl would like-, but I preferred my fruity fragrances. 

Walking out of the bathroom, I saw Case standing in front of the window, looking down over Central Park. His thumb and forefinger were cupped about his chin, while the other hand held his elbow. With his dark hair glistening in the morning sunlight, he looked extremely intelligent.

I wasn't sure if he heard me as I moved down the passage in between the beds, crawled over the one nearest to him, swung my legs over, and sat down looking up at him. "Case?" I asked, sitting down beside him, "we need to talk."

"Apple."

"What? Apple?"

"Juice. Get apple."

"No, not the juice. Forget about the juice."

He didn't respond for a moment, then flicked his eyes towards me. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember what you said to my dad?"  
"When?"

"'Bout three weeks ago. At the hospital with James and my mom. You said somethin' about Lydecker being closer than we could ever imagine."

"I remember."

Under normal circumstances, I would have read his mind, figured out what was going on in there, and drop the subject. But, Case's mind was unreachable to me, along with Max's and James'. Their minds were scrambled, like Brin's had been the first night we met. I didn't understand why I couldn't reach into their minds, but I assumed it had something to do with being the same age. After all, I had had a difficult time reading my friends' minds back in California.

"Case, what did you mean? Please, just tell me, I really need…want to know what happened. What you meant."

He turned back to me, letting his hands drop submissively to his sides, and, for a moment I thought I had him. I truly thought that he would tell me what he knew, and everything would go back to the way it was. My heart fell, though, when he said, "I can't, Alanza. I can't tell you."


	78. Lie To Me

After an order of apple juice accompanied by a slice of cherry chip cake, I decided to call James on his cell phone. 

Case was sitting on the opposite bed, which was farthest from the window, eating his shrimp and salad. He seemed fairly content with himself, having dropped the subject of his words to Dad, but still hadn't said anything to me besides, "You'd better get the apple juice. Orange has too much acid". Disappointed that he wouldn't tell me, I wallowed in food for awhile before borrowing Krit's cell phone and calling James.

"Hello?" he answered, and immediately, all the sadness of Case's denial went away.

"James!" I cried back.

"Alanza? Hey, how are you doing?" There was a lot of background noise of people talking, some were even screaming. I heard a motor starting, then the sound of a gunning engine. "Wait. Hold on. Let me move." Slowly, the noise faded away and there was stillness in the background. I didn't ask about it, but kept a mental note nonetheless. "Sorry 'bout that. Are you in NYC yet?"

"Yeah, we pulled in 'bout two hours ago."

Case, listening only from my end, spoke, "More like three."

"Case says three," I told James.

"I'd listen to Case."

"Over me?"

"Well…"

"Thanks," I laughed, taking a sip of apple juice, which James must have heard.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That slurping sound."

"Oh. Brunch."

"Brunch?" James echoed, confused as to what I was getting at.

"Yeah, the in between meal of lunch and breakfast. I managed to get some food on the plane, which would be breakfast, but it sucked, so now I'm having brunch."  
"What happened to lunch?"

"It's coming."

There was a pause as I took a stab at the cake, swallowed, and then gulped down some more juice. James was the first to speak before I had a chance to.

"How's your dad?"  
"Dad?" 

Once again, Case interrupted. "Tell him that Zack's wallowing in his room because the hotel's too fancy. Zack prefers sleeping in a box."

"What was that?" James asked, apparently hearing Case's voice on the other end.

"Here," I said to James, then held the phone out the Case. 

Smiling, but not taking the phone from my hand, Case called out in a voice louder than I would've preferred, "Zack's sulking in his room because the hotel is too nice for him because he likes sleeping in a box! I'll call you later!"

I then put the phone back to my ear. "Well?"

"Sounds charming," James replied.

"That'd be my dad."

"Haven't really had a chance to meet him, but at this point-after hearing Case-I may want to wait some more."  
"You met him when I went into seizure city," I objected.

"That was different."

"How so?"

"He was freaked. I was freaked. Not really the time to hold out your hand and introduce yourself as his daughter's boyfriend and offer him some wine."

"He doesn't like wine."

James laughed. "Too fancy-right?"

"Uh-huh. He likes beer."

"Any specific kind so that I can get on his good side?"

"Nothing expensive," I replied, then changed the subject. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good. It's raining out, which creates more mud than needed, so now I'm just hoping that my car'll make it through."

"You can always walk."

"I'll sink."

"You will not."

"Yes, I-" James began, then stopped as someone began screaming his name in the background. I caught enough to figure out that James was supposed to be working.

"Hey, look, can you call me back?" he asked. "I don't know the phone number, but don't bother to give it to me. My boss is going to kill me if I don't get back to work. Talk to you later, Alanza. Love ya."

But, by the time I had echoed his statement, he had already hung up. I stared at the phone in confusion.

"Something wrong?" Case asked, readjusting himself on the bed as he stabbed viciously at a pitiful looking shrimp.

I shook my head because something was wrong, but I just wasn't sure what. "No, no, everything's fine."

He shrugged, examining his shrimp. "Ok."

A moment later, I realized what was wrong and had been nagging me ever since I called James. The people in the background, the motors, the screaming boss, it finally hit me that it had to have been a lie. His boss couldn't have been yelling at him because he wasn't allowed to take his cell phone to work. Then, who was telling him to get back to work, and why did James lie to me?


	79. Tasers

A night later, Krit and Syl agreed to take us out to a Broadway production. Dad was still pouting-or irritable, I wasn't sure which-and lagged behind while we walked down the brightly lit streets. He was wearing the leather jacket that I had given him at his birthday, which seemed like ages ago, and appeared to also be dressed in a borrowed pair of clothes from Krit. I assumed this because I had never seen Dad wear dress slacks that were slightly too tight for him.

Syl was dressed in a sleek, periwinkle dress with high slits up both sides, along with her curls piled on top of her head, and a gauze veil to cover the burn. Wearing a chic scarf to cover her barcode, she clutched Krit's hand freely, apparently no longer caring what Dad thought of their relationship. Krit himself was decked out in a mocha sweater complete with black slacks. As always, he managed to look better than everyone else without even trying.

Case was wearing a short sleeved blue shirt that waved in the breeze as we walked down the sidewalk along with black pants that fit loosely in just the right places. He stayed beside me all the way to theater, but didn't dare grab my hand. I wasn't sure why he did so, yet, knowing that this was Case, I didn't question his motives. He may have been only a few years older physically, but on the other hand, he was light years ahead of me in wisdom.

I wore one of Syl's dresses. Since I was slightly taller than she, it came up higher than I would have preferred, which ended up causing some irked glances from Dad. In truth the dress, a creamy white that shimmered and shined under the streetlights, came only an inch or two above my knees. It wasn't _that _short.

Syl had briefly explained to me about the play while she was searching for my dress earlier in the afternoon. I guess that some of their old friends had given them tickets if they'd have a cameo in the play. But, anyhow, the play, I figured, was probably going to be far too sappy for my liking. From what I understood out of Syl's droning, a man tries to escape his past by running away. While away, he meets up with some beautiful girl with whom he plays smoochy face with, then she dies trying to save him, and he realizes that he really has to go home to be with the rest of his family. Like I said before, pathetic. If I was single, I'd at least be looking forward to the guys in tights, but I saw it best to control myself. Besides, Syl said that the guys wouldn't wear tights in this show anyhow.

We finally arrived at the building with my feet aching from the high heels; I definitely found tennis shoes more comfortable anyhow. Yet, due to the fact I wasn't exactly sure what was on the cement we were standing on, I figured it best to leave my shoes on until inside and sitting down.

The building wasn't fabulously enormous like the skyscrapers that you hurt your neck when looking at, but at the same point it wasn't easy to ignore. Smashed in between buildings, which I believed to be apartments-Krit later explained it was connected to the main theater-two revolving doors constantly turned, letting people filter in and out like a dripping faucet. Fortunately, we had made it before the faucet was turned onto high power. Rows of firefly lights were neatly arranged around the headlines advertising the plays. Not bothering to read all of the titles, I followed the group inside.

The minute that Krit and Syl walked inside, the entire place became alive. Cries of "Jacob!" and "Anne!" filled the room. With a curious glance at Dad, he nodded his head, pleased with them. 

"Looks they at least remembered some of their training," he muttered more to himself, but knew I was listening nonetheless.

Immediately, the newfound "Jacob" and "Anne" were whisked away to start preparing. In a matter of seconds, the hardcore soldier, lovey-dovey Krit and Syl were gone, having been replace by two celebrity actors decked out in the latest sleek fashions with the names of Jacob and Anne. Personally, I wasn't sure whether to be sick or happy for them that they had to disguise their lives like they did.

Dad, Case, and I were left to fend for ourselves as we attempted to figure out how to get to our seats. Naturally, Dad was too proud to ask for directions, and Case appeared more interested in the "classical romantic artwork" than getting seats, so, being the woman of the group, I was forced to ask for directions. 

The ushers were decked out in nice little suits, and one of them immediately noticed me and began the old "roving eye" deal. Clearing my throat louder than necessary, I approached him with the stealth of tiger, letting him know not to mess with me. 

"Excuse me, could you help me? I'm not sure when my seats are," I told him with the best "You'd better not touch me, but at least help me or else your name will be crud in less than a millisecond" voice that I could manage.

Roving Eye Boy got the hint. Snapping to alertness, he smiled. "May I see your ticket?"

I produced the three tickets from my purse, which I handed over to Roving Eye. 

"Left wing balcony. Up the stairs, take a right and down the hall," he replied. "Some of the best seats in the house."

"I'm sure you say that to everyone," I responded, taking the tickets from him.

"No, because not all of the seats are like that."

"I see."

"Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

"I'm leaving now," I said, turning back around to fetch Dad and Case.

"Have a good evening."

"Wait. You can help me with something."  
He would've fallen into my lap had I let him. "Yes?" he replied far too eagerly.

"You watch my ass as I walk away, and you can help me direct my fist right to your nose. Got it?" I hissed.

He nodded meekly.

Smiling the brightest that I could, I chirped back, "Have a pleasant evening too."

Once I gave the tickets to Dad and Case, we were able to figure out where we were going-with my help, naturally-and settled down easily. Upon being seated, I sat down and began to massage my aching feet.

"You ok?" Case asked, who was seated on my direct right.

"Yeah. It's what I get for wearing high heels."

"Can't hurt that bad," Dad muttered from my left.

"You want to try wearing heels for a day and see how it feels?"

"No thanks," Dad replied and stayed quiet for some time after that.

After a couple minute waiting period, the lights dimmed and slowly, music began to grow. The curtains parted, revealing a lone figure walking through what was supposed to be a forest. Apparently, the character had just woke up from sleeping the night away. As they walked across the stage, the music became more voluminous, and the person started to sing. Finally, I realized that this person was Krit! Never before had I heard him sing before, and his voice came out with a warm, hot cocoa like feeling. The song built in strength and pretty soon I could feel the seat vibrating as the musical notes swelled. From what I could understand, Krit's character had been on the run for his whole life-and still was-but all he really wanted was a life where he could become part of natural society.

All in all, the play wasn't nearly as horrid as I had assumed it to be. Syl played the part of Krit's lover, and when they sang together towards the end right before she died, I don't think that I had ever heard anything so beautiful. Add in the melodious cry of the flute, with the timpani drums rattling in the background, with the tinny triangle and it moved me to tears. When Syl "died" at the end of the play, and Krit was crying over her "death", I saw Dad even wiping at his eyes. Perhaps there were other characters-such as the friend that Krit's character goes to when in a time of need, and the long lost father of Krit that is later on murdered-but they were all minor compared to Syl and Krit in my eyes.

Upon ending, I jumped up from my seat and started to cheer zealously. Pretty soon the entire theater was applauding and the patter of clapping rolled around me. The curtain opened and all of the cast took a bow, which led to more enthusiastic shouting from me.

Case said that he wanted to talk to Krit and see how some of the special effects worked, so Dad and I figured that it was best to start heading to the hotel. After all, Krit and Syl would be cleaning for awhile, and neither of us wanted to wait around that long. Sure they were family, but sleep is also a tempting option as well.

By the time Dad and I had exited the building, the streets were clear-as clear as they could be for late night New York-and the moon was high in the blackened sky. A harsh wind nipped at me, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to make the goosebumps go away. 

Dad, seeing my discomfort, shrugged his jacket off and handed it to me. "Here," he said, holding it out.

"No thanks."

"'Lanza, take it. You're cold and I'm not," he responded with great authority. 

Reluctantly taking it from him, I found it to be wonderfully cozy and smiled at him. "Thanks."

"No problem."

We had walked about three blocks when Dad stopped dead in his tracks, glancing around uneasily. I could see that his eyes were darting about crazily and all of his senses were on the utmost alert. Trying to read his mind, I found it unusually scrambled. Whatever was wrong was not good.

"What-?" I began, but he cut me off with a sharp hiss. After a tense moment, Dad turned back around and continued walking. I followed him, unsure of what he had heard or saw. Then, he stopped abruptly again. Started. Stopped. Started. Stopped. Finally, when he halted for the last time, he whipped around a corner, grabbing me by the wrist so that we waited, pressed against a brick building.

"Dad-" I started to say.

He clamped his hand over my mouth. Then, in an extremely low voice, "This doesn't look good 'Lanza. You can run if you want."

"But I-"

Out of the shadows came six men dressed in black military uniforms, carrying an alien type of gun that I had never seen. They wore black ski caps and heavily padded vests and pants; all in all it was a weird ensemble. I don't think they realized that Dad knew that they were there and walked down the sidewalk cautiously. If Dad or I even breathed wrong, they'd be all over us.

"You see those guns?" Dad whispered in a whisper that a normal human could never match. 

I nodded in the darkness.

"They shoot you, it's worse than death."

"What are they?"

"Tasers."

"Yeah?" I asked, not sure as to what he meant because I had never heard that word before.

"You get shot with a taser by those men, they'll take you back to the place where they came from."

"Where's that?"

"Manticore."


	80. Paying for it

The men moved down the sidewalk with robotic gestures, letting the flashlights flicker into the alleys and drive the monsters away. Dad pushed me back with one arm so that his body would feel the wrath first if they found us anytime soon. Then, without turning to face me, he gave some rapid hand signals, which were followed by a curt nod asking, "Do you understand?"

In truth, it had been a long time since I had seen the military hand gestures known only to Manticore protégé; the last incident that was in close recollection had to be when I was twelve, and Dad was playing a practice session of Search and Destroy with me. Although, I didn't understand what that meant at the time-I assumed it to be a game of Hide-n-Seek against Mom-Dad used those hand signals with me, but had told me what they meant at the time.

Now, standing in a dark, dusty alley with a pounding heart that racked my entire body, I understood what Dad was telling me without saying a word. _"Escape. I'll take them. We'll meet back at the rendezvous point."_

I nodded in affirmation to Dad's response as he glanced over his shoulder to see my response, and he gently pushed me away. Hurriedly, I skittered down the tiny passage, blind and lost. My dress was ripped and dirty, while my hair hanged clumsily in my face, greasy and oily from fear sweat soaking through me. I must have looked like the average junkyard whore. How could I have sunk so low?

Behind me, I heard Dad moving around, waiting for the precise moment to pounce, but the sound of his presence was becoming quieter as I moved away. Silently, I prayed that he would remain safe. It wasn't him personally that I was worried about because I knew what he was capable of, it was that I wasn't sure just how much damage those damn tasers could cause. Were they really as bad as Dad said? Or was he just over-exaggerating to get me out of the picture? Either way, I saw it best to leave.

In the darkness and with my klutzy shoes, I tripped over a pile of garbage that had built up in a rancid corner, causing cans inside to clang with unexpected noise. From a location that I was unable to pinpoint, came a cry of "Over there!". Scrambling to stand up, I pushed against the pile of filth, which caused dirty baby diapers and brown leather orange peels to crawl underneath my nails. Again, I tripped over the spilt mess and fell backwards. This time, I couldn't sit and be prissy about my looks or the environment because I saw flashlight beams swooping down the alley, searching for me. In one violent jerk, I ripped the shoes right off my feet and began to run.

I've been afraid before, so it's not like fear was a new emotion to me. But, pure horror was something rare with the knowledge of my abilities. The only person I had ever met from Manticore was Renfro, and now she was dead. Yet, suddenly, others of the same spawn were chasing me down a dark alley in the middle of New York City, with the world a pitch black. My heart pounded in my ears, deafening me, while sweat ran down my back, covering Dad's jacket in a sick odor. All I wanted was to go home. If I had had time to contemplate the fact of how truly terrified I was, I probably would have vomited in a corner. As was, my stomach burned with raw acid, threatening to up-heave out of my throat.

Just as I turned a corner, digging my toes into the grimy dirt, with my breath coming out in raspy hisses, a flashlight appeared, blinding me, so that I was forced to cover my eyes, accompanied by a pair of strong hands on my shoulders that were determined to kill me or at least torture me until death was my only wish.

And I screamed.

Out of nowhere, Dad flew, pushing the Manticore man away from me. He pounced on the man and started reaching for his throat, threatening to kill the soldier. I stood, paralyzed by shock and hysteria, until Dad bellowed, "Run, 'Lanza, run!"  
I had just turned around to start running away when there was a buzzing sound that seemed strangely alien to the environment. Reversing directions, I found Dad, frozen, as his limbs splayed frantically. His eyes rolled wildly in his sockets, bugging out of his skull, while he fell to the ground, madly seizing. Tiny threads cut into his flesh, crippling him as he lay in the dirt, burning from agony, and shaking.

Forgetting his order to leave, I rushed towards him, falling on my knees by him. "Dad!" I screamed, fearing that he was dead. "Dad!" But, by the time I had reached him, he had stopped moving and lay, motionless, next to a squalid pile of waste. 

In the darkness, I saw the man taking aim at me. "You son of a bitch!" I cried and launched myself at him. Suddenly, my leg began madly twitching, yet I wasn't sure why, followed by my arms. The next thing I knew, more tasers had centered themselves on me and were determined to bring me down.

Fighting against the intense pain, I clawed at the men, struggling to push them away. The tasers were made for normal X5s and the remaining X-series, which I was not. Mom had always said that I was far stronger than any creation of Manticore could ever hope to be; I was supposed to the nuclear warhead in Lydecker's genetically hyped up army that could withstand anything. This was probably why I was able to throw my seizing body upon one of the men and start to pull his hair out.

There was an abrupt flash, followed by a chorus of three grunts and I was on my back, pressed against a wall. Blood dribbled through my hair, pooling around the curvatures of my nose, all of which I ignored. I wanted to both cry and scream that something like this was happening; it didn't seem real.

As I contemplating suicide, soft hands touched my bloody face, and someone, an angel, was whispering, "Alanza, are you all right?"

Syl.

"How did you-What are you doing here?" I asked, wanting neither to stand nor lie there any longer.  
"Don't worry 'bout that. We gotta go."

She tried to pull me to my feet, but I refused to leave. "No, I need to help."

"Alanza, you're not going to make it just lying here. Krit and Case got it covered."

"No they-Watch out!" I screamed as I saw one of the men coming up from behind Syl. Just as she twisted around, I flew into the air, literally soaring above his head, then landing on his shoulders, which forced him to the ground. With a vicious smash, I pounded the side of his head in, so that his body immediately went slack. 

Whipping around to my right, I grabbed an approaching soldier by the wrists. He kicked me in the shins with steel-toed boots so that I shrieked in pain. Loosening my grip, he fired a taser at me, forcing me to halt right in my tracks.

Just then, another body slammed into me, so that we fell to the ground together. My chest burned, and I tasted both blood and salt in my mouth as the wind became knocked out of me.

The taser, having lost me as its victim, began to search in the darkness. The person who had saved me, did something utterly amazing. Balancing on the palms of their hands, they propelled their legs up into the air, wrapped them around the soldier's neck, which knocked the Manticore man unconscious as he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Jumping back up in a flash, the person grabbed an approaching man by the shoulders, flipped them over, then clutched the man's head in their hands and slammed their kneecap right into the enemy's nose, causing the soldier to collapse. After the men had fallen, the person snapped the tasers in two pieces with their bare hands.

Then, they came over to me, crouching down and grabbing me by the hands. "Alanza?" they whispered in a fear-pinched voice.

"Case…"

"We need to leave."

In the distance, I saw a figure limping towards us, assisted by another. Illuminated by the harsh streetlights, the two blacken shadows moved unsteadily closer. With Case's help, I rose to my feet.

"Who's there?" I asked, unsure if I really should even be speaking or not.

"It's us," a mangled voice called back, which I recognized as Krit's.

Case quickly moved towards his uncle before the older man fell from pain and exhaustion. As I came closer the trio, Krit nodded in my direction.

"Zack's over there."

"Over where?" I asked.

"Closer to the sidewalk. We'll have to get 'im back to the hotel."  
"Without anyone seeing us," Syl added.

"Well then, let's get going. I don't want to wait around here much longer," Case reasoned, and we slowly moved back out under the illumination.

Case and I, being the ones that weren't hurt too badly, managed to lug Dad's seemingly grossly heavy body back to the hotel. I had Dad underneath the arms, while Case clutched the ankles. There was no one at the desk anymore, but a greasy janitor eyed us over with cocaine in his pupils. Smiling the best that I could, despite the situation at the moment, I pretended to laugh. "Some costume party, huh, guys? Glad we won the contest for best costume."

Case caught on and grinned crookedly, showing what an outstanding actor he really was. "Looks like Sam had too much to drink, though," he said, referring to Dad. 

"Kris too," Syl added.

The janitor, being slightly in his own delusional world, stared blankly at us, but didn't bother to call the cops. He merely let us walk on by as Case and I kept the conversation flowing about the different kinds of costumes at the "party". Only an idiot would have fallen for an act as lame as the one we put on.

Once up to our floor, Case and I put Dad back into his own room, while Syl took Krit to their bed. When asked if she needed help, Syl shook her head, telling me that "I might want to get cleaned up".

Case was already back in our shared room, gazing into the bathroom mirror at himself. There was a jagged rip up the edge of his pants where blood stitched the fabric together, while his arms were a puzzle of odd colored bruises and scars. He favored his right arm, while the left one hanged at a bizarre angle. Surprisingly, his face was untouched, but I could tell that the pain was still immense. He looked as though he wasn't sure whether to scream in fury or burst into tears. 

"Case?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.

He turned away from the mirror in reluctance and arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."  
"For what?"  
"For saving me."

"It was the least I could do," he replied, turning back to the mirror. "Besides…" he began, but stopped as Syl hobbled in. She hadn't bothered to clean herself up yet and walked with a severe limp, while her lip bled as if someone had taken it and shoved it through a blender on puree. She could barely breathe, but wouldn't stop trying. 

"Alanza?"

"Yes?"  
"Zack…wants to see…you…" she rasped, trying to hold herself up.

Walking closer to her, I held her bony shoulders in my hands. "You need to get some rest."  
"But Krit-"

"I'll watch Krit," Case replied.

"I-" Syl began.

"Please," I urged, "get a shower, go to bed. Just take care of yourself. Please?"

She nodded reluctantly, and, with my help, made it back to her room, where she went into the bathroom. Not long after the door had closed, I heard the faint sound of running water.

Krit was still lying on the bed, and, for the first time, I noticed how abominable his war wounds were. His face was glistening with both blood and sweat. His torn sweater revealed a crimson scar across his lower abdomen, while his body contorted with pain and anguish. As much I wanted to help him, there was nothing that I could do.

Slowly, I made my way to Dad's room, where I found him, sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard. There was a stream of blood dripping out of his hair from a lost cut, while a dark bruise spread over the lower half of his face. Seeing me, he lifted his head as if it were an iron ball. "'Lanza…" he whispered weakly, reaching for my hand.

I grasped his clammy hand in my hand and knelt down beside him. "Are you ok, Dad?" I asked.

He nodded. "I need to leave though."

"Leave?" I echoed.

"Yes, I have to-" he paused as he winced against the pain. "I need to find out what's happening."

"What do you mean?" 

"This wasn't just a coincidence. Manticore people know that we're still around and want us after how many years. They obviously want to finish what they started so many years ago."

"Dad, you're in no shape to fight."

"I can too," he shot back, trying to rise stiffly to his feet as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"And where do you plan to go?"  
"I don't know yet."

"Don't you die on me."

"I won't." He smiled faintly as if he had just come out of a dream that pleased him. "Can I have my jacket back? Please?" 

Numbly, I shook out of it and handed it to him. "Good luck," I said softly.

"You take care of yourself 'Lanza."

"I will, Dad." 

He paused, taking in all of what had happened and rose to his feet. He began to hobble severely down the hallway, still bloody and bruised, but never faltering in what his mission really was; he would die protecting his family. It was in that moment that I realized I would never see him again. Never. He would be far too busy with Manticore, so family would come second. A single tear fell down my cold cheek, so I left Dad's room, along with the memories, and went to find Case.

He was looking out our massive window as he had done only a day before, but this time was cradling his broken arm like a child. Case would have words of wisdom, for me, I figured, but, approaching him, I saw that he was wiping at his eyes, trying to deny that he had ever been crying.

"Case?" I whispered, resting my hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"  
"This," he sniffed.

"I know, it's bugging me too."

"No," he responded, turning to face me. His eyes were so strangely placid in the stark streetlight, which filtered in from the world below, that I gasped instinctively. "No, this is my fault."

"What?"  
"Alanza, don't you understand? This is my fault. I could have stopped it and I didn't. Now, you're all paying for it because of what I brought about."


	81. Is That Simple

I reawoke in the middle of the night, with the images of death and blood dancing through my mind. Catching my trembling breath, I had to wait to regain control of my trembling body. The thickly starched sheets that didn't allow any air passage clung to my sweaty legs, so I literally had to peel them off of my body in order to get out of bed.

Case was sleeping in the opposite bed. His hands were tucked under his face, while a single foot protruded from the mess and muddle of blankets. Surprisingly, it looked as if nothing had ever happened to him; the bruises were invisible in the late night scenery and the bloody wounds were washed away. 

Shaking my head at the sight of him, I padded slowly to the bathroom, where the stark light blinded me and forced me to grasp the edge of the sink to regain control of the dizziness that suddenly grasped hold on me. I leaned on the soles of my hands, staring into the mirror as if I were suddenly the queen of Snow White and all the answers of the universe would suddenly spew forth to me. Dark craters loomed around the corners of my eyes and my face shone with grease and oil. All in all, I hadn't seen myself looking so awful in an extremely long time.

What have you done, Alanza? I asked myself. What _have_ you done? Maybe if you had just stayed back in Seattle, back in California even, those Manticore men wouldn't have come after you. They were after you; you're the stupid 110% freak in this group. Why wouldn't they want you?  
So, I stood there, chastising myself until I realized how asinine I was being. It was just a coincidence that those soldiers were in New York City as the same time you were. Right? Yeah, sure, just a coincidence.

But, I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. After wiping my blistering face off with a cool washcloth, I moved stiffly out of the bedroom, and went over to Case's bed, crouching down beside it. 

"Case?" I whispered. "Case?"

He grunted.

Gently, I shook his bare shoulder. "Case? It's me, Alanza."

Slowly, he rubbed his sleep-encrusted eyelids and let his sight adjust to the darkness. "Alanza?" he mumbled through his thick tongue. "What's wrong?"

"Can I…Can I stay with you?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't think I was perverted and looking to "get some". All I wanted was a hug from somebody; I didn't know where to turn when I felt so alone in the world.

Case nodded, lifting up the covers so that I could move in next to him. Rolling over on his back, which made room for me, he yawned heavily.

"What's wrong?" he questioned between another deep breath.

"Do you think Dad did the right thing by leaving?"

"He left?"

"Yes. He's out to find Manticore."

"If that's what he thinks is right…" Case trailed.

"I not asking if he thinks it's right, because I know he thinks it's right. I'm asking what you think."

"I'm not about to judge Zack."

"Can you at least give your opinion?"

He laughed slightly, then coughed. "Personally?…He's wasting his time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Alanza, Manticore isn't a thriving community anymore-"

"How would you know?" I asked quickly.

"I don't. I'm assuming that. Twenty years later? After a fire that knocked out one of their main bases? Lydecker dead as assumed? It doesn't make sense that they'd still be going."

"Oh."

"But, there still seems to be a concentration of 'followers', if you will, still around. They're in New York-as we learned-and in Seattle too."

"Seattle?"

"You don't think that gang fight against you and James was 'just an accident'?"  
"I thought so. I could kick their butts pretty easily."

"They were norms."

"Norms?"

"People. Ordinary people, if you will."

"You know this for a fact?"  
He nodded. "I went back to the fight site after you had left. Found one of the bodies. It was a norm."

"You're specializing in medicine?" I asked, tipping my head.

"No, but it was obvious from the way the bones were broken and the blood sample I took too."  
"Anybody familiar?"  
"Couldn't tell you."

"Yeah? And these guys in New York City?"

"Not norms."  
"What?"  
"They had barcodes."  
My voice froze for a moment, then squeaked out, "Can you expand upon that?"  
"They were created by Manticore, which gave them a barcode. Also, you apparently weren't watching when Krit was trying to take them down. When one of their caps fell off, it showed that they had a shaved head. Couldn't catch the barcode, but they had one. They were X7s, and, before you ask, I know this because they didn't communicate with each other through hand signals or words. X7s 'talk' ultra-sonically-like bats."

"What about that voice I heard? Somebody yelled 'Over there' when I was in the alley."

"From what I can assume, they had to have a head boss. They probably wore two-ways, which led back to the main circuit. Once there, the 'leader' saw you, and made the mistake of screaming through the two-way."

"Shit…" 

"Big shit. You remember that usher at the theater? The one that was checking you out?"

"Unfortunately," I replied, not liking where this was leading.

"He was in on the scheme too."

"How do you know?"  
"I saw him with a two-way after you and Zack had left. That's why we got there when we 

did. Had I not suspected anything, Krit, Syl, and I still would've been at the theater."

"So, what you're saying is that I'm a marked man?"  
"Very much so."

"How do they know that I'm the one they want?"

"I'm going out on a limb here-not to mention the fact that I'm tired and going slightly 

delusional-but here's my hypothesis: They, meaning the Manticore people, could have caught wind of Krit's and Syl's barcodes. After all, when they were out dancing on stage, it was possible that their hair could have moved and for a split second, the barcode was shown. Zack has his burned off, and you and I don't have one. Or, they could have been watching us for longer than this NYC trip."

"Why didn't they move in, then?"

Case shrugged in the darkness and readjusted himself on the cotton sheets. "I don't know. Zack? He's always been far too suspicious. Maybe they figure that if they could get him out, the rest of you would follow. Alanza, I really don't know. It doesn't make sense."

"You're telling me," I muttered.

"What?" he asked, not hearing me through the thickness of the pillow I had pressed my face into so that I wouldn't cry.

"How do I escape?" I said, lifting my head up.

"Escape what?"

"Them."

"That's the funny thing, Alanza. I don't think you can. Max named you well, maybe it's time to start putting it to good use."

"You sound like your girlfriend."

"It might just be the truth."

"Case?" I asked, after a moment of pause. 

"Yeah, 'Lanza?" 

"Can I just have a hug? Please?"  
He smiled, then rolled over to me. "Sure. Cousin to cousin though."

"Strictly platonic," I agreed as I felt his warm arms come around me. I buried my head against his chest, letting my jawbone rest against his clavicle. He stroked my hair and whispered to me that everything would turn out for the best; it always did, he insisted. 

"That's what I have to wonder," I commented. "My father's left me for God knows where, my boyfriend's lying to me about something he doesn't want to talk about, and now I'm a wanted freak by men who just want to put me in a cage. It seems like the past just keeps coming back to bite me. I can't escape," I sighed, trying to hold back flushed tears.

"Alanza, yesterday's gone, don't worry 'bout it," he told me. 

"If only it were that simple." 

Case wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I found myself laying my arm across his back as well. His body was warm against my own cold body, and I pulled him closer, listening to the beating of his heart, which would forever remind me that no matter what happened, he was first and foremost family, and I could never leave him. 

"It is that simple," he told me. 


	82. History Happened

Looking out the window that looked down upon the world, I felt as if my body was being dissolved piece by piece. I was not only drained physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. Still, I didn't want to go home. Part of me would always long for New York City, wanting to meld with it and become one with such a great splendor; another section of me would be eternally terrified of New York City, and I knew I would forever have nightmares of being chased down dark alleys, while blood dripped off Dad's face. Either way, I was forever connected.

Next to me in the double seats on the airplane, Case slept, head tipped back and a light snoring coming from his opened mouth. He had to be exhausted. After all, I hadn't let him sleep all night and continued to pound him with numerous questions until Syl came into the room at an hour that shouldn't be legalized on modern clocks, announcing that we would be leaving within two hours so we had better start packing. Surprisingly, she had made no mention of the shared bed between Case and I; I hoped it stayed that way. I couldn't even begin to imagine the horrid embarrassment of confronting Mom with the fact that Case and I had accompanied the same bed. 

A couple rows in front of us on the plane, Krit and Syl talked quietly, unnoticed by the typical passengers. They appeared to be just a mere engaged couple, who might have been planning a trip back to the "in-laws" when returning in Seattle. How blind the innocent were. Once you smash someone's life, they will be forever suspicious and doubting of the truth. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter whom, you can only kill innocence once before it dies completely.

From my window seat view, I could no longer see the earth, but white clouds swooshed around the plane, separating and dividing so that we could pass through them. With nothing interesting to look at, I moved my attention elsewhere.

Case had offered me his collection of CDs earlier, and only now did I accept them. Shifting through the numerous titles of modern day rock, pop, and even some mixed classical, I could only find one that I recognized. Although I remembered the picture on the cover of the case, I couldn't pinpoint which song I was looking for. Annoyed slightly that my memory was deserting me so easily, I plugged the CD into the player and listened.

Slowly, the CD whirled, flashing its colors inside the radical player, and music began. The minute I heard the sound, I knew what I was listening to. "And I don't want the world to see me/'Cause I don't think that they'd understand/When everything's made to be broken/I just want you to know who I am." God, it was Max's music from the camping experience that seemed like eons ago. 

I remembered Case's haunting words when he had told me that when everything broke, the world would know who I was. Unconsciously, I shivered as a trickle moved down my spine. I swear he and Max had a fortune ball that they were just looking in, predicting my future. Briefly, with amused sarcasm, I wondered how much I could pay them to let me have that looking globe.

I continued to listen to some more songs, and, just as I was taking off the headphones, Case yawned and stretched, cracking his knuckles as he did so. 

"Morning," I smiled, setting the player back in Case's bag.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"'Bout a half an hour."

"Not too bad," he chuckled, "although, more sleep would be especially nice."

"Perhaps I could just sleep my way through this trip. Not like there's anything else to do."

Case paused as he watched me attempt to roll over and curl up into a ball, ready for some snoozin'. "I'll tell you a story."

"You? Clammy Case? C'mon…"

He arched his eyebrow at the name, perplexed, but figured it would be better not to push it. "Yeah, I can."

"Sure, then, start talking."

"My dad told me this story, and that's why I really jumped to go to NYC. He was about five or six, I don't remember the exact age he said, but that's not all that relevant anyhow. This is a true story, mind you.

"It started out as a normal day, one that would be forgotten as quickly as it had come. Just a typical Tuesday, no more, no less. Suddenly, in one instant, that Tuesday was put into the history books. 

"Out of the sky they came with their passenger jets, full of innocent victims, the terrorists ready to kill and ruin the United States. The first jet of the two, slammed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in a violent explosion of smoke and fire. By the time the next jet had hit, only minutes later, the entire world stood in rapture. 

"Only about three hundred miles away, another airplane crushed the Pentagon, obliterating one partial side of the five-sided building. Later, yet another plane hit in Pennsylvania, which reportedly was rumored to be heading for the White House."

"I had heard something about this in history class, but…this…" I mumbled, amazed with Case's story.

"For days, the people of America were in blind panic, worrying about everything and anything while newspaper blared and televisions screamed, with no way of stopping what inevitable: War. That Tuesday became known as September 11, 2001, a day that would live forever in infamy."

"What happened after the attacks? Did they go to war? Who won? You can't leave it there," I whispered. "The history books never explained…"

He turned to me, his expression placid, but not sad or angry. "People died for a country. People are still dying and will forever continue to do so. But, the important truth of the matter, the _only _truth I can tell you is that history happened after that day, Alanza. History, and that's all that is important."


	83. Breakage of Your Life

We arrived at the airport at a rough two o'clock in the afternoon. Already, the skies were gray with rain and as if suspecting our landing, it began to pour. Not especially surprising considering the fact that the city was Seattle, but I was starting to miss New York already. Yet, I was indeed looking forward to seeing James again, along with crazy Max.

Syl and Krit were detached, listless, and all around unreachable to either Case or I. Sure, we could ask them questions, but the most we would get would be perhaps a substantial grunt or a one word answer. Neither of which was especially appealing. Case blamed it on the fact that they were tired. I said they were just being adults. So, he reminded me that we were basically adults, and, having no appropriate comeback, I shut up.

Krit handed me my suitcase after retrieving it off the circle of luggage with a sad smile as Syl rummaged around in her leather purse for the keys. "There you go, Alanza," he said, speaking the most words that I had heard in the time of twenty-four hours.

"Thank you," I replied, clutching the nylon handle in my sweaty palm. "Thank you for everything…the hotel…the food. The trip. It was great, really it was." My words were forced, unsure of what to say to him.  
"Thank you for coming."  
"I'm sorry Dad bailed on you guys," I apologized, although I knew that Dad's leave wasn't my fault. But, then again, someone had to take responsibility for his actions because he wouldn't. Guess that role belonged to his daughter.

"I should have seen it coming."  
"Don't blame yourself."

Krit shrugged, then turned back to his fiancée. "Did you find the keys?"

"Right here," Syl mumbled. To me, she added, "Case says he'll give you a ride home, Alanza."

"Ok." Pausing, I glanced around for Case and found him seated in one of the chairs, lightly dozing. "I'll be around," I said to Krit and Syl.

"It'll be nice to see you again," Syl smiled.

"And you," I replied, then left, figuring that it was better to leave the conversation at a bare minimum. After all, neither adult was up to a gritty talk about politics or the weather, so I wasn't about to waste my time and energy into one.

Awakening Case, he groaned in protest, but led the way out to his car in a slow, plodding manner. If he had walked any faster, it might as well killed him. Sure, I could run to the vehicle, begged to be let in and get out of the rain, but it wouldn't have mattered. Case had the keys to unlock the doors.

He put our suitcases, which were only two, in the seats behind us of his truck. The vehicle itself was a 1500 Dodge Ram, painted in midnight blue and decked out in black cloth seats. With my limited knowledge of cars, I was unable to tell if it was pre-pulse or not. Few cars were nowadays anyhow. 

Starting the engine up, Case asked me, not making eye contact if I was going to be all right.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"About everything that's happened. The attacks. Zack. Syl and Krit. Not your average everyday high school stuff."

"I know that."

"And?"  
"And I can handle it, Case. Why do you seem so concerned all of a sudden?"

"You're family, I'm gonna worry."

"Hate to say it, but you really haven't before."

"Fine," he sighed as we merged with traffic on the highway. "I want you to be in a decent mood before you confront James."

"James? What's up with him?"

"He's not feeling too good lately."

"I noticed. What? The flu? Cold?"  
"Dad," Case grunted as if that would tell me everything that I needed to know about the secrets of the universe.

"His dad?"

"Yup. Apparently, when I last talked to James, which was before we left to see the play the other night, his dad wants James to stop seeing you, stop hanging out with me, so that James can apply more concentration onto his career."

"Which is what? Architecture?"

"Uh-huh," Case mumbled. "His dad's some kind of office man who's in charge of the construction company that James' field does business with."

"Is his dad…how should I put this…scuzzy?"  
"Scuzzy?"

"Yeah, like half-mast construction crew dude scuzzy."

For the first time, I got a laugh out of Case. "Hell no. The dad, who I've met before, is an absolute prick who wears too much after-shave and screws prostitutes while watching the stock market sales on TV."

"Oh."

"Good to know, huh?"

"So, basically, James can't stand Daddy Dear because…why?" I asked Case.

"I don't know the real reason," he replied, getting off at an exit as he head checked around him. "You'd have to ask him all the exclusive details."

"Great."

"He loves you, Alanza, everything will be fine."

"I don't want to start a fight."

"You won't," he assured me. As the conversation lulled, I could hear the faint tickling of a CD in his stereo system. Turning up the volume, I nearly slugged him when I figured out what we were listening to. It was that damned song called Iris, about the world breaking and everyone finding out who I was. 

"Is this all you listen to?" I nearly screamed, having heard the song only hours before.

"No. Max loves this song, so she not only bought me the band's album, but burned a bunch of different songs-along with this one-and gave me another CD."

We continued riding along in silence, pushing through the mud puddles and dingy walls of inner ghetto Seattle. Finally, we arrived at my apartment. Looking up at it, the building seemed dwarfed in comparison to the skyscrapers of New York. Yet, I had to remind myself that this was my home, nothing else. Just as I was ready to close the door, suitcase in hand, Case called out.

"Hey, Alanza? You remember the song?"

"The Iris one or whatever?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?" I asked.

"We were talking about James earlier, so I thought that you might want to hear this."

"Fine. I've been through enough in the past week, so I don't see how it could get any worse," I sighed, closing the door, but leaving the window rolled down so he could still speak. The rain fell in waterfalls, coating my hair to a slick helmet, but leaving Case virtually untouched in his cozy little truck.

"I told you a long time that when the world breaks, people will know what you are, and they will fear you, Alanza, because of the power you hold. Yet, what I didn't tell you-and you should probably know-is that James will be the one to cause that breakage of your life."


	84. It was history

The apartment was empty when I plodded through the door, soaked and hollow. I was finally beginning to understand why Mom could never calm down-Manticore would stress anybody out. It was amazing that Dad hadn't gone bald from pulling his hair out in a frantic frenzy; then again, he let the emotions brew on the inside where they could be kept away out of the normal human eye. This factor of hiding your feelings doesn't work real well when your daughter's a transgenic mind-reader. 

After grabbing a handful of pretzels that were so stale I could have built a house out of them and it wouldn't have broke, I checked the apartment for any signs of life. Mom's bed was made, although there were a few wrinkles where it appeared as though she had sat down to tie her shoes. The room where Dad had stayed was empty, but the covers on the bed were strewn back as if somebody had barely gotten out of their nightmare alive. Shrugging, I tried not to feel the pain that arose from being so alone.

I flopped down on the couch that I called a bed, finished with the pretzels and no longer physically hungry, but emotionally and mentally. The questions that I had were unable to be counted by a modern man. Case had answered the few that he was able to, but having not lived at any of the Manticore bases and experienced the horror first hand, his knowledge was tragically limited. I wouldn't dare ask Krit or Syl, considering that they might just decide to commit suicide in their depressed state. Mom was my next best hope, which, of course, she had to be gone when I came back. The person I really wanted to talk to, surprisingly, was dear old Dad. He had, after all, been captain and known nearly everything there was to know. Besides, he wouldn't let his emotions get in the way when I asked him about the past; Mom, unfortunately, might burst into tears and leave in a flurry of sniffles. She was most aggravating like that sometimes.

Rolling over on my side, I didn't even bother to shrug out of my coat as I rested my head in the corner of the arm and the cushion of the couch. I pressed my acute nose to the rugged covering and inhaled deeply, taking in all of the sweet scents. At first, the only thing I could smell was the rank stench of age that came from a pre-pulse couch. Again, I breathed in more of the couch's odor and finally, I began to detect the past. Chocolate, from the cake at Dad's birthday, met my nose, accompanied by the leather of his jacket that I had given him. Briefly, I wondered if he was wearing it at that same moment. There was a faint trickling of strawberry, obviously from jam, but I had never eaten the jam while sitting on the couch. Perhaps the strawberry smell had been there from a place long ago, before I had been born. Suntan lotion, obviously from my vacation with Max, Case, and James, was buried next to the strawberry jam. Lastly, I found the hot cocoa that I had drank when Brin came back into Mom's life after twenty years. Brin. The one who had started it all. It was long continuous pattern of ups and downs, of downfalls and triumphs. Yet, I suppose, all of life is like that and there's nothing that we can do to stop it. Nothing.

Without meaning to, I drifted off to sleep, exhausted and ill rested from my excruciating night with Case. You know a man is good in bed when you lose sleep over it…doesn't matter if all they do is talk and answer the questions that come spewing forth like dogs after a bitch in heat.

While, I slept, devouring the rest that came to me, I dreamed. Dreamt of things that should have been left in the past over twenty years ago.

__

Mom was at Logan's house, cradling a child in her arms. She was the mom I knew, but yet she wasn't, and this factor scared me because I truly didn't know her identity. She was younger, with curly hair that had never seen on her before. Her cheeks with rosy and more rounded than the ones that she bore now. Wearing a short baby tee shirt and a tight pair of jeans, she didn't look any older than I was-eighteen-yet she criticized me for wearing such outfits. 

Logan and she were involved in a friendly game of chess, even though he was losing terribly. Naturally, he was enough of a gentleman not to say anything but to take it as it came. He too, was exceedingly younger with thin silver-framed glasses and darker blond hair that rose in spikes like the ice of his glass walls. Just as she was ready to place her bishop and call "check", there was a knock at the door. 

I stood off to the side, watching the scene intently, separated from Mom and Logan by his crystal cube walls. They didn't appear to notice me as they concentrated heavily on their game. Logan rubbed his hands together, complaining about the chill, while Mom agreed. The snow, he claimed, was only supposed to get worse. I felt nothing.

"I'll get it," Mom said about the knock before Logan could answer the door. Handing the baby tenderly to him, she strode over to the door, sipping a glass of purple wine that she had poured before the beginning of the chess game. She opened the door, and I saw Logan flinch as he heard the sound of the glass smashing into pieces of the floor. 

"Mom!" I cried, and attempted to get past Logan. Yet, his bulky wheelchair hogged the doorframe, so I tried telling him to move a little bit faster. He appeared not to notice as his heart jumped out of safety for Mom.

"Max!" he called, worried that she might have hurt herself and began to wheel himself out there. But, having one arm occupied with whosoever baby didn't help him to move very fast. By the time he had reached the doorway leading the living room area, Mom's form had already filled in the empty doorway through which he intended to exit. She blocked me from leaving, and seemed all out oblivious to my presence. At this time, I was unaware that I was dreaming, of course, and believed her to merely be ignoring me.

"Logan," she said very blankly with a strange ghostly voice that chilled me. "There's someone here." 

"For me?" he asked her. 

"No," another voice answered, which caused me to prickle instinctively as I recognized the person behind the mask, and Mom moved out of the doorway, picking up the baby from Logan, and standing behind him. She cradled the mysterious child in her arms, wrapping it under a white blanket and hiding it almost from the man that came to her. "For Max." 

Dad stood in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his jean pockets. His face was younger somewhat, but showed the lines of stress almost, like it had been complete torture for him to come back and see Logan. He walked with only a very slight limp. So slight that to a plain passerby, the limp would've been completely invisible, which confused me because I had never known Dad to be hurt in any way, shape or form. The black leather jacket hung sloppily off of Dad's shoulders, but was still a little bit burned from an apparent fire. Obviously, Dad hadn't the money nor time to replace it. Not surprisingly, it was still the same one that he had worn before his most recent birthday.

"You came back," Logan said evenly, but I could still hear the distaste in his voice that poisoned his tongue. 

"I told Max I would." Dad stepped forward, wanting to see the child. "Is that it?" he asked, surprisingly nervous. "It". Boy, did I feel sorry for that child-being addressed as an "it" had to be kicker. Glad it wasn't me.

"Yes," Mom replied. "She is yours." Dad was stung by the fact that the baby Max held was part of his doing, but he held out his arms to the baby nonetheless. Extraordinary.

"May I see her?" With some reluctance, Mom gently laid the gurgling baby in Dad's arms. The baby thrashed its chubby legs, cooing, being the exact antithesis to Dad's emotional torment. "Oh my…" was the only thing Dad could say as he stroked the fine hair across the warm head of the baby. He looked up to see Mom staring at him. "I'm so sorry…" he began. 

"Not now, Zack, not now," she said.

I tried to peer over Dad's shoulder to see the child, which resulted in his shadow obscuring the baby's face. Slouching miserably against the corner of the wall, I waited impatiently for the clues to hit me like the iron rod I knew they would. 

"Why'd you come back?" Logan asked, interrupting the dynamite between Mom and Dad before a fuse was lit that needed to be avoided. 

"We have to leave, now," Dad mumbled more to the baby than Mom. 

"Leave?" Mom nearly yelped. "But why?" 

"Lydecker. He can calculate nine months too, y'know. He's already out searching for the child as we speak. Look, Max it's not just you anymore, it's also the baby's life." 

"But I-" 

I tugged on Mom's sleeve, trying to get her attention like a little toddler. "Mom? You don't have to go with Dad. You never have before. Stay here. I'm here, Mom." Alas, she ignored me still.

"He's right," Logan admitted. Mom looked down at Logan, and I saw tears spring to her cocoa eyes. 

"Logan, no…" 

"You have to go…with Zack." 

"I've got a car waiting outside," Dad stated bluntly. 

"Lydecker's not going to get the baby," she assured both of the men.

"I can help," I offered, which, naturally no one heard.

"Yes, he will if he wants to. A baby can't defend itself. It doesn't know how to be quiet when there's trouble or how to fight off its enemies," Logan argued. Mom turned to Dad, and he nodded in agreement. It was the only time I believed him to agree with Logan.

"I'll leave…but it's only for the baby's safety, not mine," Mom sniffed. 

"Agreed," Dad said and left to go start the car up, handing the baby back to Mom. 

"Logan…" she began, on the verge of tears as she saw her life begin to crumble. This person had been there for her when Dad had abandoned her. And now, she was leaving him. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the emotional pain was stinging; I could hear the hurt in the air. Crouching down next to Logan, she clasped his hand in hers. "I'll always be here. Don't ever think I've left you." 

"I know," he replied, his voice barely a whisper with his emotions. He laid one warm hand on the side of her face and gently brushed away a tear. "It's for the best," he reassured her. 

"I want to believe so." Mom leaned forward and their lips brushed against each other before she let herself be taken completely away in his ocean that he had to offer her. It was the last time they would ever see each other. Looking away, I saw Dad on the street below, hot-wiring the stolen car. 

As Mom and Logan pulled away, there were tears trickling down his face. He turned away from her and looked at the floor, trying not to cry as she left…possibly for the rest of their lives. Dad could be ruthless sometimes, when it came to relationships, that is. 

"I'll always be here," she whispered and turned before exiting the room. Just as her hand came to rest on the doorknob, Logan called out. 

"What's her name?" he asked his voice choked with the sadness that he was trying to hide.

Mom smiled slowly, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes. "I've been doing some research and I chose a name that means, 'ready for battle'." I froze, feeling the blood rush out of me in a fast bolt. I knew who the baby was. The iron rod had crashed, and I swooned with the knowledge. Naturally, I should have seen this coming sooner. 

"Fair enough, what is it?" 

"Alanza," Mom replied in a whisper.

I awoke to find myself alone, still, in the apartment. My body was shivering like a pre-session to a seizure, while sweat drenched me. What I had seen wasn't a dream. It was history.


	85. Rivaled the Sound Barrier

I hadn't even had enough time to roll off the couch when Mom entered the apartment. She was humming a cheerful song to herself, while swinging her purse to and fro. At first, she didn't notice me sitting there until I cleared my throat. 

With the speed of a tiger, she flipped around, fists poised and foot ready to smash my face in. 

"Uh…hi Mom," I smiled, worried that I was going to end up with a bloody nose in a less than a second.

"Alanza!" she cried and immediately greeted me as I rose to my feet in a giant hug. She smelled like male's cologne and chicken with garlic, yet, I decided to postpone the interrogation until I had told her about the sudden danger. "How was New York, dear?"  
"Can I sum it up into three words?"

"What?" she asked, confused, laying her purse down on the counter. 

"Dad. Gone. Manticore."

Every child must get a real thrill out of shocking the hell out of its parents. So, naturally, when the blood drained out of Mom's face, and she had to catch herself on the countertop, I felt somewhat pleased with myself.

"What do you mean? Manticore?" she whispered.

"You want the full or abbreviated story?"

"Just start talking, Alanza, just start talking."  
"Ok, here's the deal: Everything was going fairly well-I guess James was being pissy, but never mind that. In the middle of the week, Krit and Syl took us to see a play on Broadway in which they both had featured roles in, and we were, therefore, going to get free tickets.

"Anyhow, the play was ok overall. A little stingy on the outfits-"

"Alanza, quit dawdling," Mom warned.

"Yeah, so Dad and I left early because Case wanted to stay and 'check out the equipment' with Krit and Syl. I wanted to get back to the hotel and sleep, and I'm sure that Dad wanted to do the same. He was, after all, running on less than four hours of sleep and wasn't the happiest camper. 

"We had made it about three or four blocks before Dad started looking worried. He got us behind this building and said that Manticore men are after us. So, he told me to run and go back to the hotel, while he fought the bad guys. I ran down the alleys and suddenly, one of the men captured me. Dad flew in, accompanied later by Krit, Syl, and Case. Come to find out, these weren't regular men; they were X7s."

"Shit…" Mom hissed. 

"To make a long story short, Dad left to go off and fight the evil king, Krit and Syl are on the verge of clinical depression, Case is fairly happy and trying to stay sane, and as for me, I'm attempting to comprehend all of this."

"You _sure _they were X7s?" Mom asked.

"Pretty sure. They didn't talk, and Case said they communicated ultra-sonically. Why are you so worried?"  
"Alanza, these X7s are ten times faster, stronger, and all around better than any X5 could ever hope to be. If they're still affiliated with Manticore, they are going to up on the latest training. You were lucky that Krit, Syl, and Case came by. Zack and you would've been killed."

"Tasers."

"They have tasers now too? That can't be good either. Tasers mean that someone from Manticore still wants the X-series alive for whatever twisted little projects they have."

"Case says that gang accident I had were Manticore men too. Norms, though."

"They're in Seattle too? That must mean they know that we're here. Not necessarily the exact location because Seattle's too big of a city for them to pinpoint the exact location, but to know the city is bad enough."

"Do you think we should leave? I don't know how much my head is worth; I know it has to be an awful lot. I mean, hey, wouldn't you want the superior being of your psycho genetically hyped up army with you? I know I sure would." Seeing Mom's crestfallen face, I looked away. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"No, it's not you. It's just that this is all coming too fast."

"What do you mean? What exactly is 'all'?"

"I'd consider leaving Seattle for your safety mostly, but I don't think that I can even do that."

"Why not?"

She held out her left hand and I realized, in an abrupt instant, where the chicken and garlic along with the cologne fragrances had come from. A sparkling diamond set in silver glistened on her ring finger where the only kind of ring can go. 

Meeting her eyes, I whispered, in stark horror almost, "You're engaged to Logan, aren't you?"

Mom nodded her head quietly, affirming my question, while I shook mine in disbelief. "This can't be happening…" I mumbled, dazed and hurt as the emotions bubbled inside of me, threatening to erupt and spew forth into angry words that I wouldn't be able to control.

"What do you mean?" Mom asked innocently.  
"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? You can't be getting engaged to _Logan_!"

"Since when?" Mom snapped back with more power than I would have preferred. Rising to my feet, I stood in front of her on the couch, spreading my arms to try to make her understand. Although I knew it was pretty much pointless, I figured I would give it my best shot. After all, I had just come home fairly happy and didn't feel like ruining that feeling too much.

"What about Dad?" I asked her.

"Zack?" 

"That'd be him…."

"What about him?" Mom questioned.

"You can just forget about him!"

"Alanza, we've already talked about this-"

"He loves you!"  
"-and us together would never work out. You know that, Alanza." Mom bit her bottom lip, then shrugged. "What? Did you really think that life was going to be all strawberry jam-sweet and smooth? C'mon, you have to realize that things weren't going to turn out with a white picket fence in the front yard."

"I'm not asking for any damned white picket fence," I spat angrily. 

"Then what _are_ you asking for?"

"I'm asking for you to listen to me. Manticore people want me to be put in a cage where they can poke and prod me all day long. They want you, Mommy Dearest, to be put in a cage as well, like a gerbil or a guinea pig for their psycho experiments. You know, for once, I'm agreeing with Dad. We can't stay here, Mom."

"Then if you're all hyped on going, get outta here, Alanza."

"You know I don't have the money to leave."

"Well then, don't sit here and criticize _me_ for _my_ life. I keep a roof over your head and food in your stomach and-"

"Don't even start it," I warned, pointing a finger at her as she sat on the couch. All of sudden she decided to act like the savoir that I didn't need. Unfortunately, I was pissed now, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. The wrath was unleashed. "You think I'm suddenly going to hug you with tears in my big green transgenic eyes and say, 'That's just great, Mommy. I'm so happy you're engaged to a man that you haven't seen for twenty years and is about that much older than you. When's the wedding? I'd love to be a bridesmaid'. Give me a break, Mom. You have to understand where I'm coming from."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"What am I not understanding?"

I paused and inhaled deeply as I rested my hands on my hips, focusing towards a stain on the ceiling. Everything was moving far too fast. Suddenly Manticore had been violently shoved back into my life, James was irritable for no apparent reason, and Mom was engaged. I knew that I shouldn't ask what could go worse because irony was an ugly monster to predict, let alone control.

"All right, Mom," I began, still refusing to look at her as she waited with her disgustingly patient face, "here's the deal: Dad loves you. He said that he always would. You have to at least respect his feelings by not marrying Logan."

"Alanza, Zack and I were never married or connected with anything besides you."

"Don't you love him?"

"Who? Logan?"

"No, Dad."

"Yes."

"Then why don't you-"

"But," she replied, rising to her feet, as the joints in her kneecaps popped naturally, "not in that way I love Zack as a brother, as a man that I can admire and have around here if I need some help. He loves me as a wife, a girlfriend…" She paused, thinking about what she was going to say. "Zack loves me in the way that I love Logan," she stated flatly as if that would answer all of the universe's questions.

"What does Logan think about Dad?"  
"The less Logan knows the better," she mumbled, twirling her hair nervously.

I arched my eyebrows. "I see. You don't tell Logan anything and then it's all good. Right?"

"You have to try to understand, Alanza. I know you weren't there when I left Logan-"

"Don't jump to conclusions so quickly. I was in your arms when you left Logan. Dad came for you; he could have let you die in Seattle with me. But he didn't, because he cares about you. You have to give him that much!" 

"All right, tell me then, what kind of man leaves his entire family in Seattle without telling them where he's going? Tell me _that_, Alanza."

"Manticore."

Mom snorted indignantly. "Manticore, my ass. If Zack wanted to stay, he would have. He's just afraid to face the truth that he's not captain anymore and therefore can't control the squad."

Just as I was ready to fling another comeback in Mom's face, the door to the apartment opened, bringing with it Original Cindy. She smiled her sunny little sexual smile upon seeing me, but I didn't smile back. I simply glared at her with fierce eyes that warned her death was closer than she would have hoped for her. Her pleasant grin faltered, and she said nothing either Mom or I, and moved into the room that used to be Dad's.

"Oh. By the way, so nice to know that we have an extra guest," I hissed so vehemently that spit trickled down my lower lip. I wiped it away with the back of palm in animalistic fury.

"Her girlfriend kicked her out," Mom explained.

"So she just comes tromping back here? Great. Not only is there you and Brin, now Cindy's back along with me. And, I'm still stuck on the frickin' couch! What's gonna happen if Logan comes to live with us? Hmm? Have you told him about your heat sessions? About how you have to screw any male in your sight? Might want to tell him that because what if he gets in the way? Oh, wait, never mind, you love him in _that_ way, so it's all fine and dandy if there's a ton of freaks running around because you can't control your sexual urges! Maybe Dad was right! Maybe I should just leave and-"

Suddenly, I fell to the ground as I warm flush spread across my right cheek accompanied by a stinging sensation. Mom stood above me, her left hand hanging loosely at her side, while her eyes were clouded over with anger and tears as if she was unsure whether to scream or cry. There was a vein in her temple throbbing, and I could see that she was biting down harsh enough of her jaw to taste blood that may have been coming from her tongue.

I didn't move for a moment. I didn't even bother to raise my cool hand to the burning feeling on my face. I wouldn't give her the pleasure of showing her that I was actually hurt. Instead, I shot daggers through her, trying to kill her with my slit eyes.

Finally, Mom cleared her throat, raised her arm and pointed to the door. "Alanza, get out." Her voice was strong enough to be convincing, yet when you live with someone for twenty years, you know when they are on the verge of tears, which Mom was.

For a minute, I paused, waiting to see if she was really serious. Finally, when Mom didn't let her arm drop, I pushed myself to my feet and glared down at Mom from my height. "Fine, then, I will," I spat. I slammed the door harshly behind me and gunned the engine of my motorcycle so that I whipped down the streets at speeds that rivaled those planes that had broken the sound barrier. In the back of my mind, I could hear Case's voice whispering, "When the world breaks…"


	86. Would Not Leave Me

My intense fury and pain drove me to the far side of town, where many of the richer people lived-Logan specifically here. I parked outside of his building and stared upward at his window, where a shadowy figure paced nervously. Naturally, this figure could only be Logan. I considered leaping up into the air, bursting through the window, then strangling him to death. His murder would be swift and then there wouldn't be any engagement. No, I willed myself, pushing the motorcycle away, you don't need his blood on your hands. Besides, his blood was my blood, and I couldn't kill him; Mom was the one who had said yes-not him. I'd get her later on.

Not too far from the Cale Penthouse, lived James. I figured it was time to see him since he hadn't called, and I knew that we needed to talk anyhow. Maybe that was all that he needed too-someone to converse with. Having not seen him in about a week, I assumed it wouldn't hurt to ask him how his life had been. 

I skittered up the apartment stairs with the grace and speed of a black panther who was fresh from the kill. It took three times of knocking on James' door before I heard him call out, "Who's there?"

"It's me," I replied.

"Alanza?" His voice cracked, and I heard an object thud to the ground in shock.

"Yeah?"  
"Just hold on." I waited outside, confused now as to why he hadn't answered the door directly. There were some odd noises going around inside the apartment as if he was frantically trying to reorganize, or put, things away. Finally, after several long seconds, he opened the door. Immediately, he burst into a wide, friendly, good ole James smile. 

"Alanza!" he cried, wrapping his arms around me in a warm hug. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good, " I lied.

"You have to tell me about your trip. Here," he said, stepping out of the doorway, "come on in." He was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants, topped with a faded sweatshirt and glasses that I hadn't realized he wore. 

"I didn't know you needed glasses," I told him, coming inside.

"I wear contacts, but was too lazy to put them in this morning." He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't get to bed until late last night. Thank God it's Saturday."

"You're telling me."

"So," he began, plopping down on the worn couch next to me, "how was New York?"

"It was pretty good."

"Seems to be the phrase of the day. 'Pretty good'."

I laughed, happy to be back with him. Forget Mom. Forget Dad. Hell, forget everything and everybody. Always remember James Wilson. "It was an exhausting flight. Case nearly crashed out from sleep deprivation while driving me home."

"I warned you that he has a drinking problem," James joked. "Need to watch that boy closer."

"Honest! He must have been sneaking them while I was in the bathroom on the plane!" I giggled. We both smiled at each other before falling back on the couch, locked in the other's arms. I sighed heavily, enjoying the plush feeling of his old sweatshirt against my cheek. 

James kissed my forehead. "I missed you so much," he told me, running his fingers through my windblown hair.

"Me too."

"How did your dad take the trip?" James questioned in a hushed undertone, knowing how terrible Dad's relationship was with me.

"He left-again. Not surprisingly, he even didn't even say good-bye. I can't believe it. He left. Just like that."

"You okay with it?"

"No," I admitted, "but I will be because you're here."

"Aww, how sweet," James chuckled.

"I try."

A long silence fell between us. Not from discomfort, but from the sense that my life was whole again. His warm chest rose and fell with every breath that he took as the heart pounded with such a steady pulse that I, through my determined exhaustion, unknowingly fell asleep. The next thing I knew, James was groaning and trying to roll over on his side in his subconscious state of mind. Apparently, he too, had drifted off while both of us were relaxing. When he found that there was something in his way, and I discovered that I was going to be crushed, we both immediately woke up to avoid a jam-pile.

"Alanza?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

"Good morning to you too," I yawned as we both laughed. Rolling off the couch, I plodded over the bathroom, combing my hair with numb fingers. James was yawning blankly and stretching with exaggerated effects.

Just as I laid my hand on the doorknob, James called out, "Alanza, don't open that!"

"What?"

"I said, 'don't open that'," he stated, all of a sudden, snapping out of his dumb state of mind like he had been electrocuted. Slowly, he rose to his feet and came over beside me.

"James, if it's a dirty bathroom, it's not that big of deal."

"I don't want you going in there," he replied, gently pushing me out of the way. Yet, no matter how hard he had tried to be tender, the fact remained that he had shoved me aside.

"Fine," I snapped, cocking my head to the side, "I'll leave then and go find my own bathroom." Quickly, I snatched up my coat and headed out the door, angry with everything in the goddamned world then. Suicide was almost starting to sound appealing.

Just as I had gotten onto my bike, ready to roar away, James came running out of the apartment complex's doors. "Alanza!" he yelled. "Wait!"

I peered through the shield of my helmet and arched an eyebrow. "What?"  
"I'm sorry," he apologized.

It's hard to be mad at someone who asks forgiveness, so I shrugged, not having any suitable comeback. "It's ok, I'm just having a bad day."

"We need to talk."

"Yeah," I agreed with an earnest nod.

"How about dinner? Tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good."

"Great," he smiled, relieved almost that I wasn't going to swat him across the parking lot. "I'll pick you up at seven." He shook his head happily. "Thanks for listening, Alanza."

"I do what I can," I responded and slowly drove away, waving good-bye as I did so. 

The blood still boiled in my veins with my temple throbbing darkly, as I rode down the street, trying to force myself to move on. James had apologized, thanked me, and was now taking me out to dinner. Yet, he hadn't told me why I couldn't use his bathroom, and that certainty would not leave me for the entire ride.


	87. He's Trippin' Boo

When I arrived back at the apartment, Cindy was keeping busy in the kitchen by mixing up a food that I couldn't distinguish between plant or animal matter. She looked up as I entered, then immediately focused her attention back on the steaming item. I couldn't blame her any for being pissed at me; I was pissed at myself, so it was only right for others to be angry with me as well.

Clearing my throat, I hooked my thumbs in the back of my jeans' pockets while keeping my distance. The countertop proved to be a rather successful void in representing the emotional canyon between us. "Cindy?" I asked. "Can I talk to you?"

She didn't look up, but managed to nod in acceptance so that her dark curls jingled.

"I'm sorry," I said, rocking back on my heels nervously. "I didn't mean to talk smack about you like that. It's just…" Just what? I asked myself. Just that your life feels as if it's going down the drain, and you're powerless to stop it? What is it now, Alanza? "It's just that I'm going through a rough time right now. I really am sorry," I apologized.

Cindy nodded and glanced up at me with a smile tugging on the corners of her plump lips. "It aiight, boo." I really didn't hate her for moving back in. In fact, I welcomed her presence to assist with the Logan and Mom issue; Cindy, after all, had to have her own opinions about it, and I was more than eager to hear them. 

"Thanks," I managed to smile back. Well, things were good with Original Cindy again. Now, it was time to find Mom. "Cindy?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Where's Mom?"  
"She left."

"Where to?"  
"Dunno. Think she said sumthin' 'bout Kit and Seal. No," she snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering. "It was Krit and Syl. Yeah, 'dat it."

"Thanks. I'll just wait 'til she comes back then."

"I think she's stayin' the night."

"The night? Why?"

Cindy shrugged. "She was pretty up'et 'bout 'dat fight you and her 'ad."

"Great…" I groaned. I headed on over to the couch, with its limited privacy and began to search through my suitcase, which had unfortunately become my closet. It seemed as though I never would manage to get space of my own. I was now faced with the dilemma of what to wear to dinner with James. 

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Cindy asked, looking up from dinner. 

"Something to wear tomorrow night. I got a date with James; we have to have a serious talk about some things."

"Your sugar gettin' nasty on ya, hon?"

I laughed. "He's just not telling me stuff that I need to know."

"Like what?"

"Like why I couldn't use his bathroom."

"Uh-oh," Cindy mumbled.

"'Uh-oh'? What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, arching a defiant eyebrow. Even though Cindy liked her ladies, that didn't change the fact that she had more experience in relationships than I did. 

"He trippin' boo. Yo man don't let choo in the bathroom just 'cause. He's hidin' sumthing'."

"I figured so."

"What could he be hidin' in 'da bathroom?"

"I don't know? Poor toilet paper?" I shrugged. "Who knows with him."  
"A lady friend."

"What? James? No."  
"Makes sense, don't it? You been gone a week and sudd'ly he hidin' stuff from you. He ain't never done 'dat 'fore-has he?"

"No," I reluctantly admitted.

"'Dere you got it, girl," she announced, pointing a highly manicured finger at me. "You ask 'im 'bout it. Men ain't good liars. He'll stumble if he's lyin'. Blush an' sputter. If he don't, you got nothin' to worry 'bout."

"I didn't need to hear that," I whined.

"Original Cindy gonna give you 'da truth straight-up whether ya like it or not."

"What if it's not true? He might just have something that he doesn't want me to see. Like…I don't know…a present?" I grimaced, trying to convince myself that my lie wasn't nearly as pathetic as it sounded.

Cindy raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. "He's trippin', boo, and 'dat ain't good."


	88. Crazed Laughter

Mom came home the next afternoon. We barely made eye contact and managed a "hello" and "good-bye" before she headed on over to Logan's. I forced myself to tell her that I was going out with James that evening, which she gave a faint nod of affirmation to right before she hopped on her bike and sped away. I couldn't blame her any for being angry with me, yet I wasn't about to prostrate myself before her. After all, she had slapped me physically, while I hit her verbally. We were both equally guilty. 

Cindy was out on the town during the time that I was preparing for dinner, for she was shopping for new clothes and groceries. 

Brin was at Krit and Syl's, working on finding a treatment to her ever-ailing disease. Since I had come back from New York, it seemed that she had deteriorated nearly 80%. She relied on Mom for everything and could barely chew her own food. Her hair was falling out in chunks, and the hair that she had left was thin, white and crunchy with age. All of her skin was pulled so tightly over her body it appeared as though her veins were mountains upon the valleys that her breaking bones made. I was afraid to touch her in case she fell apart right in my arms. I hated to see her suffer so, but none of us had the heart to "assist her with the end", to be graciously put.

For dinner that night, I wore the same iridescent red dress I had had a seizure in on my first dinner date with James. Careful not to make too many similarities so that disaster could be avoided, I let my hair fall in soft curls. While I also clasped the ruby necklace he had given me on our second "official" date, I remembered that it was better off known as the date from Hell when Mom nearly died and James as well. Shuddering, I had to remind myself that it was all in the past and the only thing that mattered was the future.

I had just finished applying a brush of dark mascara when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" I called out, then, with my heels clipping across the wooden floor, walked over to the door and opened it in one broad sweep. There, naturally, stood James. Dressed in a pair of black pants that hung loosely on his body and a deep maroon shirt, which rivaled the shade of my dress, he had left the shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top to reveal a fading tan, yet finely defined muscles. We both could do nothing but gawk in shock at the sight of the other. In fact, it might have been almost funny if we had been able to get over being so stunned.

"My God…" James whispered.

"You are sexy," I commented.

Locking eyes, I tried to push out any doubts of his cheating. Cindy had to have been wrong. How could he be with another woman when he acted so warm and friendly? I'd confront him at dinner about it anyway; he couldn't elude me forever. 

"Let's get going so that we're not late," I said. "I'm assuming you got reservation times."

Snapping out of his dazed state, James nodded earnestly. "Quarter after seven, we need to be there." He extended his arm like a gentleman would. "Your black Ford Focus carriage awaits."

I laughed, but immediately went along with his joke. "Thank you, good sir," I replied, in a mock British accent. "'Tis a relief upon thy weary feet to ride instead of walk upon squalid roads."  
He chuckled. "May thou weary feet be blest by beauty." Then, winking, he added in an undertone, "Beauty, of course, which cannot be properly defined by a mere dictionary. You _are _beauty, Alanza."

I was fervently convinced that he couldn't be cheating. It wasn't possible.

We arrived at the restaurant at the exact time James had set the reservations for. Already, the sky was darkening with traces of nighttime, while the moon glowed largely in its glorious backdrop of stars. Lights of the massive Seattle buildings sparkled too, as if threatening the stars to match their determination. Sighing pleasantly, I followed James inside.

Our seating couldn't have been better-a tiny little corner where no windows could prove to be a distraction for James if he needed to avoid eye contact. Two candles sat in the middle of the table, ready to overflow with hot, melting wax, while green place-mats stared up at us. After retrieving our orders of shrimp for James and fried chicken for me-along with juice-the waiter hurried away to meet another customer. I had James right where I wanted him.

He, sitting across from me, pretended to snuggle down into the warm leather seats. "I could go to sleep right now," he mused pleasantly, closing his eyes mockingly.

"Let's not and say you did."

His smile faded slightly as he leaned forward and clasped my hands in his. His own hands were clammy, sweaty slightly, and I could heard Cindy's voice in the back of my mind. It took nearly every cell in my bottom to keep my arms down and not throttle him senseless "Alanza, I want to talk about what happened the other day. I want to talk about everything. You can question me about anything and I'll promise you that I will respond. You're more precious to me than anything in this world and I would never want to do something to hurt you. Okay? So just ask and I'll answer."

He couldn't be cheating.

"All right, then," I replied, lowering my voice a decibel. "I want to know everything about your father. You haven't told me basically anything about him, yet you hate him with such a passion, that it disturbs me."

"Father…" James mumbled, releasing our physical clasp as he ran his fingers through his hair. The boy was cornered by his own words and he couldn't escape now. "Fine. My biological father is a slimeball, to be blunt and cruel. He lives his life without any promises or obligations. He's a controlling, manipulative s.o.b., which, for that of many reasons, I despise him. First of all, he left my mom and didn't contact me for over twenty years. Suddenly, he calls up out of the blue and wants to be a part of my life again. It's absolutely and horribly disgusting."  
"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. He's knocked up at least ten women-all cheap hookers, mind you-but paid for abortions just so that he could keep on screwing them. Walked in on him doing so one time, right in my apartment, on the floor, too. Just what I wanted to come home to." James shivered for dramatic effects. "I think I'll need a lobotomy to remove that memory. The last thing I needed to see was his wrinkly ass in my face. Thank God I got the locks changed. But, like I've said already, he's a slimy weasel."

"I can see why you don't like him. Perfectly understandable."

He laughed. "Thanks, I guess."

Sipping at my juice that had been brought earlier in the evening, I smiled. "Can I keep on asking you things?"

"Shoot."

"The bathroom? Yesterday? Why couldn't I go in there?"

He stiffened, then sighed deeply. "I had a project I was working on."

"What kind of project?" I asked, delving deeper, all while praying that my worst fear wasn't about to leap out at me.

Shifting slightly in his seat, he glanced away, coughed, then returned his sight back to me. "It was a surprise for your birthday."

"My birthday's not for about another month," I argued.

"I know. December nineteen. The thing is, I had the list to order the object in the bathroom and that's why I didn't want you to go in there."

"Oh."

"I also want to apologize for being such a jerk-off yesterday. I had just spoken with my dad, and he was harassing me again."

"Why didn't you hang up on him?"

"'Cause he'd come to my house and continue the insults there."

"You don't deserve to be treated that way. Not by him. Not by anybody."

James shrugged. "You get used to it after awhile."

"I know," I replied, remembering my own father. "It still hurts."

"That it does," James whispered, "that it does."

The waiter came back shortly after, delivering our steaming food, which we both attacked like rabid animals. As we were eating in silence, both of us digesting the information we had discussed, I overheard the couple behind us talking. Glancing behind my shoulder, I saw a middle aged peroxide blond wearing a push-up bra that wasn't pushing up a whole lot and an older man with thick glasses, playing with the other's fingers. She was obviously having an alcoholic drink; he had just plain water. They were both sharing a tray of clams.

I made eye contact with James, then jerked my head in the couple's direction. He saw then, smothered a laugh, and we continued to eat, enjoying the new entertainment that dinner had brought us.

"Aww, honey," the blond woman cooed, "it's not your fault that your little man doesn't work right. I still love you anyhow."

"But what are we going to do with ourselves on Saturday nights? That was always our night."

"I'm sure we can think of something. I mean, what did we do before we met each other with all of this wild love-making?" There was a long silence as their pea-sized brains tried to comprehend a time before sex, and James snorted in laughter. This caused him to start gagging on his shrimp, and I was forced to whack him on the back so that he didn't choke. 

"Thanks," he muttered, slugging down his milk with tears in his eyes from coughing so hard.  
"No problem."

The couple continued discussing their bedroom problems when they began to get more intimate than I really needed to hear. Clearing my throat, I turned around and asked politely if they would mind talking about something less risqué. Normally, I wouldn't have cared all that-I did attend public high school, after all-but enough was enough.

"Why, sweetie, I'm sure me and Normal here, can do that-can't we?" the blond replied with an over eager grin.

"Thanks," I responded accompanied by a forced smile.

"Do I know you?" she continued pointing a hot pink fingernail at me. "You remind me of someone from a long time ago…I can't remember their name, though."

"I don't think so. I'm not really that old."

"How old did you say you were?"

"I didn't, but it's eighteen."

"Eighteen. Why, hon, you're old enough to start experiencing the wonders you have. Is your man legal too?"

"Legal? For what?"

She and the man I assumed to be Normal, giggled at their own little joke. "For 'doing grownup things'." 

I think James started choking on one of his shrimp again, from shock, this time though, but I couldn't be sure. After all, I now had a bigger issue on my hand: telling a sleazy couple that I preferred my movies below a NC-17 rating. Arching my eyebrow, I asked, "And I take it you both have experience in that subject?"

"Very much so. Why, I bet I could show you things you'd never imagined. All kinds of nice things…extremely nice things."

"I don't think so."

"C'mon, I promise it won't hurt. We'll both be very nice to you…and your fine young friend there," she cooed, running her tongue over her teeth.

Standing up, I reached for James' arm, indicating that it was time to get going. He was patting his chest as an innocent piece of little shrimp that had obviously been coughed up stared curiously up at him from the plate.

"I'm afraid we'll have to decline," I responded.

"Well," she sighed in disappointment, "here's my number, if you ever want to join my sweetie and me. We'd more than welcome the company."

Not even bothering to look at her number she handed, I managed to smile before hurrying out of the restaurant with James not far behind. Once outside in the pale moonlight, I looked at the napkin she had given me. There was a number on it, along with the message, _"Call me collect, honey! It's my dime. I'll be happy to use it on you." _ Her name was scrawled sloppily on the bottom, to which I immediately burst into such crazed laughter that James had to support me.

"Who was it?" His voice was still raspy from choking, so he was forced to clear his throat a couple times.  
"My mom's old boss and roommate."

"Who?"

"Normal and Kendra."


	89. She Lost it

James and I drove home together, laughing quietly. The moonlight danced across the barren streets where no shadow man dared to hide. All of the stars shone so brilliantly that I assumed I was dreaming of their sheer beauty. My dress caught the nightly light, and I smiled warmly to myself as the laughter died down so that we rode in silence. James' right hand kept on reaching over for mine so that our fingers danced together. I glanced over at him only to see a grin playing at his luscious lips. He was so dazzling himself that I couldn't believe how gorgeous his spirit was.

The minutes crept by slowly as the engine purred smoothly. Only a few cars were out tonight, which was odd for the city of Seattle, but faith led me not to question it. Finally, around ten o'clock, we arrived at his apartment complex. 

"There's something I want to show you upstairs," James explained with a tender smile. 

I nodded as he squeezed my hand tenderly before he exited the car from the opposite side. We walked into the building, side by side, never letting our fingers leave the other's. It seemed as though, after the talk we had had, our relationship was flourishing with a strength that I had never experienced before.

His individual apartment was naturally dark, and I waited in the doorway while he turned on a single light and tampered with his entertainment system in the corner. I watched him intently when suddenly I heard the tinkling of piano music growing from his CD player. James walked towards me as a woman's voice began to sing. _"We were strangers starting out on a journey/Never dreaming what we'd have to go through/Now here we are and I'm suddenly standing/At the beginning with you."_

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. You were all by yourself, drinking your miserable beer."

"I know. I saw you and sat by you, but never got up the courage to talk to you. Remember how we danced?"

"Yes."

He extended his hand. "Then, Alanza Guevara, may I have this dance?"

"James Wilson, you will always have a dance."

He smiled, flashing his white pearls of teeth in the moonlight that came in through the large window of his apartment. Wrapping an arm around my back, he pulled me closer to him so that our right fingers interlocked with my left arm across his shoulder. He kissed my ear and whispered, "Don't you ever think I've ever stopped loving you, Alanza. Don't ever think that."

"I won't," I replied, my voice equally as hushed, "I won't…"

The song played as we moved across his carpeting, and I realized, once again, how songs could come back to you with more force than necessary. The music intensified, and I let my head rest on James' shoulder, deriving my entire strength from his being. _"I'll be there when the world stops turning/I'll be there when the storm is through/In the end I wanna be standing at the beginning with you."_

My lips met his, and the noise of the song faded into oblivion as he caressed my back with strokes more tender than was possible. Running his butterfly lips down my neck, I writhed with the tempting feeling and merely kept my hands on his chest. He, in one smooth motion, lifted me off my feet and carried me into his bedroom, where he laid me on the bed. The room smelled of cedar and faint scent of metal, but I wasn't entirely sure with the passion clouding my mind. Kneeling beside me on the bed, James met my eyes with warm intensity.

"I won't do anything that you're not ready for. Just tell me, and I'll stop."

I looped my arms around his neck, pulling me down next to me. Our cheeks met, and I whispered in his ear. "Don't ever stop," I pleaded, and I knew that I had surrendered myself as I had been warned not to do. All of the Manticore power my body contained was given to James for his longing and my own pleasure as well. 

His burning lips trailed down my neck until they met my shoulders where my dress straps covered them. With a tender finger, he pushed the pieces of fabric aside and kissed my bare shoulders that were still sore from my fight in New York. Yet, it felt as though he could heal anything, and I felt absolutely no pain whatsoever.

Barely breathing, I unbuttoned his satin shirt with numb fingers. Shrugging out of it, his body rocked with mine as our lips met once again. My fingers were splayed across his fiery chest, and I gently massaged his back. Slowly, my dress cascaded to the floor in one red waterfall, but I failed to notice the November chill of the weather. James kissed the curves of my breasts, while I forced myself to take in air. Everything was happening too fast; I delighted in every moment of it nonetheless. 

He bent his head down, letting hot breath spill upon my already burning skin so that I tore at his pants, fumbling with the belt buckle, eager to pull them off so that I could have him once and for all. Suckling at my hardened nipples, James pressed his now near naked body against mine, and I felt him grow hard against my leg. I knew that if he stopped, I would probably kill him. Arching my hips towards him, I wrapped my arms around the cords of powerful steel muscle in his back. I loved the feel of such might right underneath my fingers as he writhed against me. 

Gently, he pulled off my underwear and traced his finger along the hot line of skin. Slowly, he kissed skin with the only purpose of being on the human body is to be kissed. I dug my fingers into his back like a drowned swimmer in a turbulent ocean, as he moaned. He was the James that I knew, yet he wasn't. And, I suppose that I wasn't the same person I had once been either. A fiend had stolen our minds and made ours into bland putty. 

Running his hands down the curvatures of my hips, I felt myself burn with desire that I had never felt before. It was a dangerous feeling, for I was unsure of its destruction, but I knew that I loved him. I loved everything about him. Nothing could go wrong now. Meeting my mouth with fragrant kisses, he straddled me, prepared to enter. Never before had I felt something this strong that could make me be so utterly dominated and controlled, while at the same time strong and killing.

Suddenly, James' face was replaced by Dad who stood before me like he always done with arms crossed. Dad blankly told me in the voice that he had always used, "If you ever become pregnant, the child will be immediately aborted. No questions will be asked, nor will there be any chances of adoption. Don't ruin your life because of one moment of passion. Love is blind, Alanza. If you think you can control it, then you'll be the one who gets slapped in the face in the end. One moment, one second, can change your entire life. Don't make that mistake."

Dammit, Dad was right, and I knew it. Grabbing James by the shoulders, he froze a second before I told him to. He too, had felt that something was wrong. We met eyes, both of us panting and trembling, while he looked down at me with sad, hollow eyes.

"James, I-I can't."

"I know," he responded, rolling next to me as he fumbled with the bedsheets. All of sudden the room was feeling wickedly cold. Finally, we were wrapped up in a flannel blanket, our own body heat barely keeping us warm. "I can't do to you what my father did to my mom."

"It's more than that." After all, there was such a thing called birth control, yet mistakes could not happen, and we both knew that. Had I become pregnant, my entire life would have been sucked away before my very eyes.

"I know," he agreed solemnly. "It's not right."

"No, no," I whispered, moving over on my side to face him as I caressed the side of his face. "It's too right and that's what scares me."

He nodded in affirmation, yet wouldn't meet my eyes. "You're correct."

"I'll always love you, James."  
"And I'll always love you, too, Alanza."

"But not now."

"No, not now." He reached for me, pulling us closer. I rested my head against his shoulder and sobbed quietly in the darkness, while he wiped my tears away despite the fact that I felt them coming from his own eyes. We were so utterly close-separated only by a layer of skin-yet we remained miles apart. And there wasn't a damned thing that either of us could do about. Surrounded by lies and secrets that neither one was willing to expose, our lives balanced delicately on a thin strand. One mistake, and we would lose the other. 

Later in the night, I awoke due to the fact that I needed to use the bathroom, and I didn't care if there was something in there that may have related to my birthday. Pulling on my dress for some modesty, I plodded over to the bathroom and locked the door behind me, fumbling for the light-switch in the darkness. While doing what I had to do, I cried so hard that the toilet seat underneath me shook. How much longer could I deny myself? Deny who I was?

When I washed my hands, I accidentally moved my head too quick and ended up smacking it against the medicine cabinet above the sink. The doors swung open and out dropped out a box. Being polite, I reached down to the floor and picked it up. There, in my hand was a used box of condoms. There were supposed to be twelve; only eight were left in the cardboard box.

Clasping my hand to my flighty chest, I gasped for air as I backed against the door. He had insisted that I was the only one in his life; that I was the only one he loved, and now I had found a pack of used condoms. It wasn't like they were his father's either because it was a brand-new package, and James had kicked his father out awhile ago. 

With a heavy heart, I told myself, you have to come clean with him and he'll be clean with you, Alanza. Reluctantly sighing, I made my way back to the bedroom.

James was still asleep, but quickly managed to notice me as I sat down at the foot of the bed causing disturbance on the mattress. "Alanza?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I need to tell you something."

Moving closer, but not daring to touch me, James said, "You can tell me anything."

"I'm not like other people."

Believing that I was my usual facetious self, he laughed in mid-yawn. "That we all know."

"No, James, you see, I-"

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Hold on, I'll be right back," James told me as he pulled on his pants and boxers. Leaving me, he turned on the hall light and moved slowly towards the door in exhaustion, but not apprehension. Although I kept my distance, I followed him nonetheless in case he was mugged in his dazed state. I was awake and alert in both shock and tension. 

"Who is it?" he asked, checking the digital clock on the stereo with a quick side-glance. It was two in the morning.  
"It's me," the voice answered.

"Case?" 

"Yeah." Swinging the door open and seeing that it really was his friend, James stepped back with a puzzled look upon his face.

"Well, come inside. What's wrong?"

"You see-" Case began, stepping into the apartment, but he faltered as he saw me appear out of the shadows. James too, glanced behind him only to see me, then turned his attention back to his friend.

"What's wrong?" I echoed.

Case swallowed a harsh lump, and I could see in the pale apartment lighting that he had been crying. His eyes were rimmed in red, but sunk into black moons. It was obvious that he had been up for an exceedingly long time and had been sobbing the entire time. Something was definitely wrong. In a hoarse voice, he responded, "It's Max…"

"What about her? Is she okay?" I immediately asked as I moved closer to him, fearing the worst for both of my friends.  
"She's hemorrhaging…" Case whispered right before he fell against the wall out of exhaustion and pure sorrow. "The baby's dead…she lost it."


	90. Et tu Brute

At first it seemed like a prank, something that the school bully would yell in your face, then shove the chocolate-or strawberry-pudding up your nose as they chortled with laughter. Unfortunately, this was no prank, despite how bizarre and odd it seemed. One moment I was filled with the warmest passion imaginable and the next the world had crashed down upon my head.

I moved closer to Case and rested my hand on his shoulder in support. He looked up as we touched and a glimmer of hope passed by his cocoa eyes. "She asked for you…just before she lost consciousness…She wanted to tell you something," he told me, referring to "she" as Max.

"Something what?" I asked.

He shrugged, shaking his head with the floppy mop of brown hair. "I don't know, Alanza…I wish I did though."

It was at this time that I noticed James. He stood apart, by himself, looking out of the large windows that gave a god's eye view of the city below. His hands made bulges in his black pants' pockets, while his bare chest seemed ghostly in the contrasting moon and sun light. Yet, as placid as the scene may have appeared, it wasn't. Every muscle in James' body was constricted, and his hands were in the shapes of fists, while I perceived a twitching muscle in his temple.

"We need to go to the hospital," I said to no one in particular, voicing only the obvious. Then lowering my voice so that only Case heard me, "I'll see if I can get some blood to her."

Blankly, he nodded, but without any real gusto behind it. "Let's get going then."

"You go on, Case," James said, breaking the silence. "Alanza and I will take my car. I can take her home, then, after we make sure that everything's all right." His voice reminded me of a movie villain lying to the damsel just before her boyfriend is ripped to shreds, and I felt myself stiffen with fear. 

"Thanks guys…I just…it seemed like…there was no where…"

I gave him a warm hug and smiled with what little happiness I could muster. "You just go to my girl and make sure she takes care of herself." 

After Case had left, I moved towards James with instinctive caution. It wasn't that I was afraid of any damage he could cause because I knew how much stronger I was than he, but the fact that he was suddenly so agitated disturbed me nonetheless. With the knowledge that he was already hiding something from me planted firmly in my mind, I was starting to realize just how much I really didn't know James.

"James?" I asked, approaching him like one would a spooked horse. "James?" I repeated.

Slowly, he turned to look at me, forcing himself to tear his earthen eyes away from the window. Between the time he began to turn towards me, and when he finally did, I swear that the action had taken over eighteen years. Once we faced each other in the light that came from the large window, he didn't say anything and neither did I for a moment. Finally, licking his bottom lip, James nodded as if I asked him a question. "Let's get to that hospital, then."

We rode in nervous silence that couldn't have been broken by a jackhammer all the way to the hospital. I was anxious to just come out and ask James directly what the hell his problem was. Naturally, that tactic would have to be saved for a later date. After all, my best friend was possibly near death, along with a dead baby. For never having met the child, I felt an odd sort of affinity to it. Life always is full of mean tricks and I was pretty sure that this was one of them.

Arriving at the hospital, I felt my stomach churn in fear and trepidation. The hospital was where James had been. It was where Mom had nearly died. Technically, I suppose, she had died, but was brought back to life by yours truly. Thank God for supernatural blood. I'd probably be a big hit for vampires.

Although James walked a couple feet behind me as we entered the hospital through the revolving doors, I wasn't about to wait up for him. If he had some kind of problem, then he'd better start talking. I couldn't sit around and act like a therapist if he wasn't going to say anything. Still, I couldn't help noticing that now he didn't appear nearly as angry as he had back at the apartment. Instead, his head was rolled forward, shoulder slumped in, and the sweatshirt he had thrown on was crumpled and disarrayed, giving him the appearance of a depressed drunk. 

Surprisingly, Case was already in the lobby and waiting for our arrival. He looked slightly happier than when we had seen him back at the apartment. Naturally, he wasn't springing off the walls while pouring wine and cutting cheese, but he didn't have the knife poised over his wrists anymore. He greeted me with a warm hug, then, as we pulled away from each other, he jerked his head down the same hallway that Renfro had been living in not too long ago. 

"Max wants to see you," he told me.

"She's ok, then?"

"Physically, pretty much. Won't hurt if you can sneak her some blood. But emotionally, she's whipped. I haven't been able to sit down and actually talk to her about the baby so I don't know if she knows that the baby's dead. I think she does though, but all she's been saying is that she wants to talk to you."

"What room?"

"Third one on the left."

Right across from Renfro's office.

"Thanks, Case."

"No problem. Oh," he said as I began to walk down the hallway in my glimmering dress, "she's had a lot of pain medication, so she may not be making sense."

"I'll understand her, anyway."

"I knew you would, Alanza," he smiled faintly. Moving towards Max's room, I heard James' voice in the background saying something to Case about them needing to talk. I decided to ignore it and let the boys handle it for themselves. Max was much more important than they were at the moment anyway.

Inside the dimly lit hospital room, I found Max lying her bed, struggling to stay awake with fluttering eyelids. Her left hand was twitching, and there was both a blood bag and drip I.V. attached to her body. As I pulled up a chair, it squeaked, running across the floor, and Max lobbed her head towards me.  
"'Lanza?" She sounded as if she were drunk with cotton shoved in her mouth to prevent full communication. Her usually loquacious and perfectly articulated voice was horrendously distorted.

"Yeah," I nodded, pinching off the line from the blood bag to her arm. I pulled out the stopper of one end and pricked myself with the needle, which caused my blood to flow directly into her. Noticing her scrunched eyebrows, I smiled slightly. "Special deluxe blood, delivered to you by Alanza."

Max attempted to laugh, but her voice came out thick and gravelly. Her head rolled back to its upright position, and she continued to stare at the ceiling. "The baby's dead-isn't it?"

I nodded sadly. "I'm sorry."

"It was for the best," she sighed, "I suppose."

"Doesn't matter, really, something that was alive no longer is."

"I heard Case was pretty upset."

"Yeah…"

Not turning to me, she clasped my hand in hers and we sat, joined together for an infinite amount of time. In the months that I had known her, I couldn't ever remember seeing her so serious. Case was right; the pain medications can cause a person to act out of the norm.

Finally, when I was beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of blood, and I had disconnected the tube between us, Max spoke. At first I couldn't hear her and had to lean closer to fully understand her mumbled tongue. "What did you say?"

"Remember how fortune cookies tell you your future?"

"Supposedly," I replied.

"I gave you a fortune cookie saying, too."

"Yup. 'My mom named me well. I'll put it to good use.' I think that's it, anyhow."

She smiled, pleased with my memory. "Well, all right, 'Lanzie, I got one for you right now."

"What is it?"

Just as she was about to tell me, Case came into the room, followed closely by James. Neither had an improved attitude, which wasn't a tremendous surprise. In fact, Case looked more miserable than when I'd first seen him in the lobby. 

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked.

"I was called down here," Case replied. Then, with a jerk of his thumb in James' direction, "He just followed me."  
As if hearing that Case was in the room, a nurse came out, dressed in green scrubs with tiny traces of blood. "Mr. Smith?" she asked, in Case's direction.

He arched an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"We here at Metro Medical, have had patients who have suffered the loss of a child say that it feels better if they can actually hold the child to give them closure. Would you like to do so?"

Not even bothering to glance over at the drugged up Max, Case nodded. "Yes, I would."

"Come with me then, please," the nurse said.

Turning to me, Case asked if I would come with him. Shrugging, I followed him nonetheless. 

Inside a separate room that appeared to be an operating room, two other nurses, a male and a female, were cleaning up bloody medical instruments. The flashback of Mom on the operating table was so powerful I nearly swooned from the strength, but was able to remain focused on the task at hand. Case needed me now, and I couldn't let him down.

The same nurse who had requested Case came towards him with a wrapped bundle. "This," she said, offering the white bundle to Case, "is your child. It's a he." She then moved away and back to her fellow colleagues where they chatted in hushed tones, oblivious to Case's grief.

Gently, with more tenderness than humans should contain, he peeled away the top layer of the blanket. There, underneath the warm cotton, lay a tiny baby. Perfectly formed with deep red skin that was wrinkled terribly and eyes shut tight, the baby looked starkly similar to both Case and Max despite the early age. 

I heard Case's voice catch in his throat as he prevented himself from sobbing. Using one hand that seemed massive against the baby's cold skull, he pulled away the whiskers of hair on the head. In fact, the entire body of the child was still covered in lanugo, indicating a premature birth. The child shouldn't have been born for at least another four months.

"Case, I'm so sorry."

"God…he's so perfect."

We both stared at the child in Case's arms before I saw tears falling out of Case's eyes onto the crimson skin of the baby. Case sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

"Are you going to name him?" I asked, finding it difficult to hold back my own tears.

For a moment, Case paused, then reconsidered my question. "His name will be Jack, after an uncle that never saw freedom either."

After giving the child back to the nurses, we headed back to Max's room. James was waiting for Case in the hallway and the two men immediately dispersed themselves back to the lobby. I returned to Max to say my finally good-byes, until I could see her again.

"How did he handle it?" she asked, upon seeing my arrival.

"Case? As well as could be expected. You had a boy."

She nodded, pursing her pale lips together.

"Case named him Jack."

"Appropriately named."

"You're going to be ok, then?" I asked her. "I need to run home and get changed, then I'll probably come back to see you."  
"I'll be fine, Alanza."

Just as I had stepped out into the doorway, I remembered how she had said something about the fortune cookie statements and I asked her about it.

"Cookie?" she asked, her eyelids closing droopily. "What about cookies…?" Kissing her on the forehead, I wandered out to the lobby so that I could have James give me a ride home.

Just as I had entered the lobby, I saw Case punch James in the side of the face, sending his friend reeling. "You son of a bitch!" Case screamed with all the force he could muster, which caused some disturbed looks from the staff. He turned sharply on his heels and began to head down the hallway.

James scurried to his feet and pushed Case up against the wall by his shoulders. "Listen to me," he hissed. "You have to get over it." Narrowing his eyes in defiance, Case sucked his air back and spit right in James' face. James shoved Case to the ground and headed towards the door. 

I hurried over to the fallen Case and supported him as he rose to his feet. 

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Et tu Brute."


	91. Forever Over

James was waiting in the car with hot exhaust spewing out into the night. He drummed his fingers to an unheard tune on the steering wheel, while chewing on the nails of his opposite hand. Suddenly, he had become sober, and dangerous.

Opening the car door, he glanced over at me, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me something, then shifted the car into drive and began to pull away from the hospital. He was chewing on his lower lip because he kept both hands on the steering wheel, which prevented him from biting his nails. 

"James?" I asked, knowing that I was going to have to confront him about certain issues anyway, so I figured it best to get it done and over with.

"Hmm?" he grunted, not looking at me.

"What did you say to Case?"

He paused, ceasing the agitated chewing, then shook his head fervently. "Nothing."  
"What do you mean 'nothing'?"

"I mean that I didn't say anything to him," he snapped with more force than I assumed to be necessary.

"You certainly must have said something. Your best friend just called you a son of a bitch, then spit in your face."

"He was angry."

"About what?" I asked, arching a sassy eyebrow.

"Do I really need to answer that?" he questioned with bitter sarcasm. "His baby just died, which he had to hold in his arms, and his girlfriend nearly kicked the bucket as well, and you're asking what he could be angry about?" James laughed hoarsely, flipping his blinker on as we turned right. "C'mon, Alanza, you can't be that stupid."

For a moment, I didn't say anything because I had focused all of my attention onto the puddles of moonlight on the road in front of us. Slowly, in the distance, the sun was beginning to rise, yet hesitated as if unsure whether or not to do so. In the back of my muddled mind, I could hear Dad's insistent voice, "Keep your attention at the mission at hand. Don't worry about frivolous nonsense." Fine, I thought, I can do that, Dad. The mission right now is to get home and then go back to see Max. No big deal. 

Then, I glanced over at James with his hardened eyes, and I heard another message from Dad that completely made me forget the entire mission. "Destroy the enemy at any and all costs." And, at the moment, James had the word "enemy" painted in bold lettering smack on his forehead.

"Don't you dare call me stupid," I hissed.

"Did I? I don't remember doing so."

"Then maybe that explains why you don't remember the opened pack of condoms in your bathroom."

"What?"

I pulled back my lips in a feral, animalistic grin. Dad had taught me how when very young; he explained that because of our feline DNA, we were able to do such stunts while shocking the living hell out of ordinary people. Yet, if James was afraid, he was rather good at hiding it.

"Here's the deal, James," I hissed, using his name like a taser's sting. "You had condoms in the bathroom. You wouldn't let me go in there earlier the day before. You were probably screwing someone in the bathroom and therefore she-or God forbid, _he_-was still in there, waiting for me to leave. I don't know what the hell Case's problem is with you, but I'm starting to see it. All you have been doing is lying to me. I question something, all it takes is a little bit of sweet-talk and everything's good to go. Yeah, and by everything, I mean that you only took me out for dinner just to take me back to bed. I don't know what your sick little mind game is, but I don't want to be a part of it."

"Screw you," he mumbled.

In a flash, I had gripped his right arm, digging my nails through the thick sweatshirt. Although I didn't want him to lose control of the vehicle, I wanted to make sure that he knew I meant business.

"That's all you ever wanted-isn't it?"

"You're no perfect angel, yourself," he bit back.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

Hitting the gas, James glanced over at me with fire in his eyes. "What are _you_ lying to me about? Your mom was close to death, and she's suddenly walking around all fine and dandy just the day after. That Cale guy was paralyzed. Frickin' paralyzed, and he's walking around too. No problems whatsoever. And how could your dad have picked you up so easily when you were going into a convulsion? Doesn't make sense. A normal human can't pick up a full grown female, who's out of control as well. So, who's the devil and who's the angel now?" he asked.

"Why did I ever believe that you could escape your past? Looks like your father's sleazebag genes got passed on."

He flinched unintentionally, and I was partially pleased that I was weakening his resolve. "Don't talk about my father," he growled, clenching his jaw down tightly.

"Why? Afraid you might become like him?"

"Shut up."

"Scared that monsters in the basement are going to come and bite your ass?"

"I said shut up!"  
"James, our best friends' baby just died tonight and all you can think about it yourself! You're no better than your father. A horny, good for nothing sleaze. I hope you take those condoms and shove them up your ass!" Stopping, I inhaled deeply, my face on my fire, yet loving every minute of it. "Don't you just love it how we can't escape our past? My dad's a loner, so am I. Your dad's a lying, manipulating, screwing bastard…" I paused for dramatic effects, daring myself to really say it. "And so are you."

I felt the air gather around me as James' hand came towards me at the usual slow speed a human moved at. Grabbing him by the wrist, I forced his hand to the ground so that he screamed in pain and slammed on the brakes, while struggling to pull over to the curb. 

"Looks like your father taught you well," I grinned with evil sarcasm. "You even have the abusive streak in you."

"Get out of my car, Alanza."  
"I will," I snapped, shoving him back against the window so that his head hit with a sickening thonk. "I don't ever want to see you again."

"Stay out of my life."

"Here!" I cried, stepping out onto the sidewalk. In one fluid motion, I ripped the ruby heart necklace off my neck, snapping the thin chain and tossed it at him. "Take that!" Then, before he could say anymore, I slammed the car door so harshly that the entire vehicle shook with the sheer force. Not even bother to tear off my tipsy dress shoes, I ran the entire half of mile home, barely breathing when I entered the apartment in a flurry of dirt and tears. Throwing myself on the couch, I sobbed, knowing that it was forever over. 


	92. Make a Family

For the next two days, I did nothing but mope around the house, drinking juice like there was no tomorrow and shoving my face with sticky strawberry jam. A thin layer of brown fur was spreading across my body because I had not bothered to shave, which, in truth, was especially unbecoming. My regular human hair had not been washed since I arrived home that stormy night, which resulted in unbearable stench accompanied by oil build-up. Original Cindy often commented that she would help me, if I needed it. I didn't want her help. I didn't want anybody's help because I didn't need it. And, although I realized that I was acting just as stubborn as Dad, I refused to give in.

Brin had officially been moved over to Krit and Syl's due to the fact that they had the finances to support medical care for her so that she could be kept comfortable until untimely death. This left the apartment to Mom, Cindy, and I. A feline transgenic. An adult with a teenager's mindframe. And one moody teenage feline transgenic. Not the happiest group you could find.

Mom had forgiven me, and I her, so everything was back to normal in that retrospect. She said many a time that I should go back to James and try to work things out because she, of all people, could understand what I was going through. But, whenever I heard his name mentioned, I would immediately begin to block out any and all words that followed. Nothing could make me go back. Nothing at all.

I had spoken briefly to Max about her condition, and apologized for not coming back to the apartment. She wasn't up for a heavy conversation about my break-up with James, and I didn't want to talk about it all that much either. Although the pain medications had worn off, the true emotional pain hadn't. In fact, without the drugs, she was feeling the full brunt of her feelings, and despite the fact that she had denied ever being pregnant, the death of her only child had shocked her nonetheless. I don't think she would ever get over it.

As the number of days I had spent on the couch approached the second night, I received a call from Case. Mom answered it and carried on a short, but friendly, conversation with him of which I ignored. Then, she held out the phone towards me.

"It's for you. It's Case," she replied. 

"What does he want?" I asked, rising up from the couch, trying not to feel the way my cat hair bristled against the aged fabric of the couch.

"Talk to you."

I held my tongue about that being an obvious statement and answered with a grunt as I accepted the phone. Mom shook her head and headed off to the bathroom to shower.

"Alanza? Is that you?" Case asked from the other end.

"Yeah, it's me."

"How are you doing?"

"Ok."

"I talked to James."

"Oh."

"He's not doing too good either."

"That's nice."

"Alanza…"

"He can rot in hell for all I care right now," I grumbled.

"He's hurting just as much as you are."

"Bullshit."

"Go back to him."

"Why do I have to be the one who does all the dirty work? Why can't he come to me?" I asked. "Maybe I don't feel like shaving, combing my hair, taking a bath, and actually eating real food for once. Maybe I'll just stay like this the rest of my life."

"You know that's not reasonable."

"And who gave you permission to play God with me, Case?"

"Nobody," he replied, confused and slightly hurt by my snippets.

Realizing that I had offended him, I sighed, running my hands through my hair. "I'm sorry, Case, I didn't mean it," I replied, looking at the grease that was now on my fingers. The sudden urge to vomit was overwhelming. I was becoming a recluse.

"It's ok," he responded in that wonderfully mundane voice that he used.

"No, it's not. I'm ready to kill something…or someone…yet burst into sobs. I've been lounging around the house eating goddamn jam and bawling my eyes out for over two days now. I hate him so much, but it's awful being away from him."

"He tried to hit you, I heard," Case commented as if he had just mentioned that there were a lot of clouds in the sky that day.

"He told you that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, believe you me, he got it good."

Case chuckled. "He showed me the bruise. Bruise_s, _I should say."

"Yipee."

"Go back to him, Alanza, you know how much you love him."

"Case, I don't need to be hearing this right now. I'm trying to stay sane without going totally berserk and for once, I'm actually starting to see clear right now. Don't tell me to go back to him."

He sighed reluctantly. "You're right. I should let you two work things out on your own."

"There's nothing to work out."

"Look, I just wanted to see if you're all right."

"I'm fine."

"Then, I'll be going now."

"It was good to hear from you," I admitted.

"You too."

Laying the now quiet phone back onto the receiver, I tried to sleep, but found that it was extremely difficult. When I finally managed to make myself comfortable on the thick couch, dozing in and out of the real world, all I think about were men. Men in boxers. Men in boxer briefs. And, yes, even gigolos in G-strings. Every single one of them wore James' face and body. Forcing myself to snap out of the dream, I awoke in a dark apartment, panting and trembling with sweat pooling around me. Acidic stomach juice rose ominously in the back of my throat, while my insides burned with the temptation of what was to come.

"Oh God…" I moaned, falling back onto the couch. "I'm in heat again."

Starting that very moment at five thirty in the morning, I did a full and complete change. Throwing the smelly, sweat-soaked sheets off my body, I grabbed some clean clothes and headed to the bathroom to shower. It was bad enough when other people started to smell your rank body odor, but when you can smell it, it's pretty awful.

Surprisingly, the freezing water was a welcomed sensation, despite the fact that it sent me wheeling to the opposite side of the shower, breathless and trembling. I forced myself to step back under the arctic waterfall and concentrate on the problem at hand so that the cold could numb the burning feeling that was spreading throughout my limbs.

Yes, I was in heat. Yes, I could handle this. Just because I needed a male, was not that big of deal. Just because I needed to feel his warm, silky body pressed against mine while we tumbled across his bed-"Stop it!" I hissed out loud to myself, pounding my fist against the iron shower wall so that it rumbled like thunder. "You are eighteen years old. You've been through this before. All you have to do is think good thoughts. Nothing that has to do with the dirty deed." Talking to myself didn't help matters any. In fact, it only made the present situation worse. All I could picture was James' body, naked and ready, as we had lain upon his bed in the worse moment of passion that there could ever be. My brain may have not wanted him while standing in the shower, but my body was ready to take a flying leap across the world for him.

I shaved myself with harsh, repeated strokes so that I drew blood on my knees and forearms. The blood felt soothing because I was in control of my emotions, in control of what I could do to my body and what I couldn't do. I pressed my finger to the spot where the cut was on my leg and watched in fascination as the red liquid pooled around the curvature of my finger. So, this was what one of my "uncles", Ben, found so wonderful. Mom could never understand his obsession with death and killing others. Slumped against the wall of the shower, watching the blood ooze down my legs, I finally did. His killings gave him a powerful sensation. It allowed him to play God by controlling the lives of others because he couldn't lead his own life. Living in Manticore for ten years or so must have pushed him to the edge of insanity due to the fact that he was unable to even be a real person. Soldiers have no authority, and that was all, I believed, that Ben wanted. Control. It was all I really wanted at the moment too.

Finished with shaving, I applied some saliva to the wounds to help them heal and exited the shower. I felt refreshed and alive, ready to start my life over again. No amount of Manticore could make me desert my life. I dressed in faded blue jeans, a pale magenta sweater and pulled my hair back tightly into a ponytail. Feeling powerful, I left the chilled bathroom to grab my lifeguarding gear and head onto the pool for my job. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the person sitting at the counter, drinking coffee with Mom.

"L-Logan," I stumbled, swooning with animalistic heat and human passion.

"Hello Alanza," he smiled, flashing his perfect teeth at me, which were surrounded by sensuous lips that I wanted to have. His jawbone was wonderfully formed with a nice little scruffy beard and glasses that made him look all sexy and intellectual. God, I hated to say it, but I wanted him. I wanted him bad.

Approaching him, I strutted like I was on the catwalk, moving closer to him so that my hand ran down his upper thigh. "Logan," I whispered, "looks like the time in the wheelchair may have left you slightly thin."

"Alanza?" he questioned, confused.

Hearing my name pronounced in his luscious voice made me pounce. I was clawing at his hair, struggling to eat him alive, when Mom literally jumped over the counter and smacked me across the face.

"Alanza!" she snapped, not angry, but worried. I reeled, clutching my cheek. Then, lowering her voice, she walked me over to the couch as I mumbled a stream of "ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod". I sat down on the couch, reaching blindly for my lifeguard equipment as Mom crouched next to me. "It's 'that time'-isn't it?" she asked.

I nodded blankly.

"You shouldn't go to work today."

"I have to."

"No."

Logan was in the background, brushing himself off, but I tried not to notice how tight his pants were. The last thing I needed to do was jump him again. 

"I'm going to work, Mom. I haven't been there in two days. I can't be a recluse like this."

Sighing heavily because she knew that arguing with me wasn't going to do any good, Mom shrugged. "You just watch yourself."

"I'll try."

She hugged me as I left the apartment, wishing me good luck. Chuckling stupidly to myself as I rode to the pool, I couldn't think of any other mothers who would wish their daughter good luck in trying not to screw some guy. Just goes to show a person how truly screwed up Manticore can make a family.


	93. Vibration of the Engine

To say the least, the pool was packed. It seemed as though every man, woman, and child in the city of Seattle along with the surrounding metropolis had all come together to party at my workplace. So, it only made sense that the minute I was changed into my black, one-piece bathing suit, one of my co-workers came running up to me, breathless and frantic.

"Alanza!" she cried, grabbing my arm with clammy fingers. "Thank God you're here!"  
"No problem, Christy," I replied, peeling her fingers off my blistering skin. We were standing in the women's locker room, surrounded by chlorine-infested mothers and skinny little teenagers younger than I was. Their voices were a mild irritation on my list, so I was able to ignore them all with ease. Yet, Christy proved to be a bigger annoyance. "So, what's the problem?"

"All right," she sighed in her usual voice that usually I was able to ignore. Today, her perky little voice was like nails on the chalkboard. Holding out her hand, she put one finger out for each problem that she named. "One, some kid threw up in the men's room, so Shaun's in there cleaning that up, which leaves him off-duty. Two, Monica went home because her little sister cut her finger open. Three, we only got Brandon, Cessy, and Pete. I think Pete left just a minute ago, and nobody will listen to anything that I say!" she whined. "I can sit there and yell at them to cooperate, but nobody cares! They'll listen to you, Alanza, make them listen!"  
Sighing heavily, I nodded. "Fine, I'll see what I can do." I grabbed my towel and strode out onto the deck so that I could avoid Christy's annoying tone. All I had to do was sit in the lifeguard chair and stay there. I could do that. I mean, how hard could it be to just sit? 

Not as easy as you'd think.

The minute I stepped out onto the deck, everything hit me like an iron hammer. The noises of screaming children running like savages, groaning adults as they heaved themselves out of the water, and the cry of Cessy's whistle as she vainly tried to stop two teenagers from playing Chicken. The sights were overwhelming as well. I suppose working at a pool while in heat had to be the stupidest idea I had ever had. Nearly sixty percent of the population swimming were males, and not a single one wore a shirt. All of them were glistening with water over their tanned muscles as droplets fell off their perfected skin and onto the tile. A little moan escaped me, and I sagged against the doorframe, my towel dropping to the damp floor.

Christy, coming up from behind me, pushed me out into the open with frail hands. "C'mon, girl, let's get to work. People need you."

Shaking my head and forcing myself to snap out of my drugged state, I fumbled with my whistle. With one shrill blow, I caught the attention of the remaining lifeguards. Christy was right: Pete was gone. Yet, I couldn't see Brandon anywhere either. 

Cessy bounded over, her skinny body frame twisting with every move as I followed her with my eyes. God, I was starting to turn into a lesbian pervert too. I covered my eyes with one hand and sighed deeply to myself, trying to find some inner strength to stay on the straight and narrow.

"What's up guys?" she asked, wringing water out of her black hair. The teenagers, seeing that they weren't going to get caught, continued their game of Chicken. I wasn't worried; they'd get kicked in the rear by me in a couple minutes.

"Alanza called ya," Christy commented.

"Hey, good to see you, Alanza," Cessy chirped. I looked up and nodded faintly with a plastic smile on my face. "So, what's up?"

"Where's Pete?" I questioned, trying to control the queasy feeling that rose in my stomach. 

"Gone."

"Brandon?" 

"Men's room."

"What the hell is he doing in there?" I asked impatiently. Having recently been promoted to co-head of the lifeguarding squad, I felt it was my responsibility to make sure everyone was in line.

Cessy shrugged. "Dunno. Said something about leaving 'cause he didn't want to work."

"Leaving my ass," I snorted and stormed off to the men's room. Just because I was in heat didn't mean I had to sacrifice my reputation and job for some lazy bum that didn't feel like working.

"Alanza, where are you going?" Christy called from the other end of the pool.  
"To get Brandon out here."

"You can't go in there! It's the men's room!" Cessy responded.

"I can do whatever I want!" And, with that, I turned sharply on my heels and headed into the lions' den.

The men's room was quieter than the women's with just the sound of a single running shower as background noise. Two males, who were obviously more than friends, left the room as I entered, casting an almost evil glance in my direction. Screw them, I thought bitterly, but not literally of course. 

"Brandon!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The shower stopped in shock, and I strode over there to see what was happening. Unfortunately, I caught a bare-assed Brandon trying to weasel his way out of the shower without getting caught. I froze right in my tracks and felt every muscle in my body scream.

"A-Alanza," he stumbled, embarrassed and reaching for his towel as we met eyes. He was exactly the same age as I was, but a definite four or five inches taller with probably another extra hundred pounds of pure muscle on him all of which was covered in luscious mocha skin accompanied by black hair. He had extremely strong cheekbones, with traces of sore acne below his ears, along with a scar on his right arm. In his profile application, he had written that he had played football in high school and went All-American, but an ankle injury caused him to quit before college. All in all, he was gorgeous and every transgenic cell of my body wanted to be screwed by him right there in the locker room.

He was hunched over now, fumbling with the damp towel and attempting to tie it around his waist with wet fingers. Obviously being caught butt-naked by one of his superiors in the workplace had to be close to death on the humiliation factor, and the frantic sputtering with flushed face showed that all too clearly. 

"Alanza, I-I didn't hear you…I was just…Cessy told me…It was Pete who started everything…"

"Don't worry about anything," I breathed, approaching him with feline grace until he was cornered in the shower area. There were five different showerheads all in one square shaped tiled room with just a tiny door to leave and come. Had I not been so blind, I would have found it extremely funny that I was in the boys' bathing room instead of the girls', where it was safe. 

I had him backed into a corner, and we both knew it, yet neither one protested. He had always wanted me since the day I walked in and fervently asked me out only to be greeted with an answer of "no, I have a boyfriend". Well, I no longer had a boyfriend, and I no longer had any restraints. Take me now, Brandon, I'm yours.

The next thing I knew, I was all over him, shoving my tongue down his throat, clawing at his bare chest as I ground my hips against his crotch. I believe that a weak protest of "not in the shower" came from his succulent lips, but he didn't put that much emphasis onto it. His warm hands were caressing my breasts, sucking at the hardened nipples though my swimsuit that begged to be kissed. I didn't give a damn about foreplay and obviously neither did he. Pretty soon, he was sitting on the tiled floor, while I straddled him, fumbling blind with the towel. Yet, just as he was attempting to rip my suit off, there was a shrieking female voice that blasted its way through my muddled mind.

"_A-lan-za_! Did you find Brandon!? Alanza!" 

Brandon's body went paralyzed and his arms came up, preventing me from touching him. "Shit!" he hissed. "It's Christy!"

We both scrambled to push ourselves up and out of the puddle that had formed due to the fact his towel was covering the drain. Yet, surprisingly, he didn't seem all that embarrassed with what had just happened, and neither did I. Most likely we were both still in shock. Him, from being attacked, and me from seeing his gorgeous body naked. 

"Yeah, he was just getting ready to leave," I responded, rubbing at my temples, dazed still. 

"Is he gonna work today?" Christy asked from outside the men's room.

I glanced over at the questioning Brandon, who merely shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

"No," I called back out to Christy, "he won't be." 

"What?" Brandon asked me in a shocked undertone. 

"Look, you wanted your day off, you got it. Just go…somewhere…now. Ok? Don't ask," I shot back and hurried out of the locker room. Mom was right. I couldn't afford to be at work, no matter how badly I needed the money. So, I pushed past a dazed Christy and Cessy, shouting that I needed a personal day and literally flew out of the pool building. My faithful motorcycle waited, as always, and I drove it to the limits, trying not to sense how good the vibration of the engine between my legs really felt.


	94. I Refused To

I spent the remainder of the afternoon alternating between icy showers and bashing my head against the wall-literally; there were dents in the wall to prove it. Mom came home later in the evening and suggested some push-ups or other aerobic exercises to take my mind off of being heat. That wasn't me, though. Perhaps she could sit there and do fifty sit-ups without breaking into a sweat, but I definitely couldn't. So, I placed both hands against the wall and began banging my head again, figuring that if I ended up with a migraine, the pain would be too intense to think, and knocking myself unconscious would be even better.

Yet, by the time eleven o'clock rolled around, I had neither headache nor coma, and my patience was dwindling. I couldn't stay inside for four more days, pretending like everything was right when it really wasn't. So, I grabbed my jacket off the arm of couch and quickly sneaked outside. Mom, if she heard me from her room, didn't question my motives. After all, she knew the feeling of being trapped just like I had done to myself all day. She told me that she had blown a couple doors off their hinges just to leave the isolation she had put herself through, which made the dents in the wall seem rather frivolous.

The night air was cool, yet dense with the setting of fog from the nearby body of water. Lights still glittered in the far-off distance, indicating that the city was ready to be reawakened for the night life that prowled the streets then. Warm exhaust spewed out of my motorcycle as I joined the hungry traffic on the full streets. I didn't know where I was going, but I prayed that riding alone would give me the freedom I craved nonetheless.

Devilish intuition found me back at the dance club where James and I had first met. I remained on my bike, one foot on the curb for balance, debating whether or not I should enter. He had been there. He could be in there. Shaking my head, I removed my helmet, as I told myself that I was getting as bad as Dad when it came to dealing with memories. Besides, dancing gave me more freedom than anything else ever could.

Inside the building, sweaty bodies were packed together, whirling with the music. An animalistic growl grew inside of me as I watched the glistening males, but I forced myself to move onward. After all, they had girls with them and wouldn't be interested in me. I, though, was interested in them, and watched with intense fascination as I sipped at the cheap beer I had ordered. God, they were so gorgeous. I just wanted to throw them down on the bed and it would all be over. No, I reminded myself, keep yourself intact. So, I grabbed the seat of the barstool, trying to ignore the frantic shaking of my leg. 

As I was reaching for my drink, I heard someone coming up behind me. "Alanza! Hey, what are you doing here?" Quickly whipping around, I came face to face with Brandon. I jerked back in surprise and managed to catch my drink just before it spilled onto the countertop. Immediately, I was bombarded with various flashbacks of his delicious body in the shower from that morning. For the time being, he was wearing loose jeans that gathered around the tops of his thickly soled shoes, a tight black T-shirt along with a black leather jacket. His hair, following the styles of the time, was messed up, not flattened by the shower as it was earlier that day. In his left ear, he had two silver hoops, while a single one in his right ear. Wearing a thick silver necklace along with all that leather, he reminded me of a pimp. One sexy pimp at that.

"I-I," I sputtered, unsure of what to tell him.

"I haven't seen you around here before, so I wondering what you were doing here," Brandon commented, swinging a large leg over the opposite barstool. I glanced away as his pants stretched tight against his thighs and groin. 

"I've been here before," I replied, bringing my glass to my lips. The drink shuddered throughout the entire short trip from counter to mouth and back; I couldn't control the urges anymore and the smell of Brandon's cologne was intoxicating.

"Really?" he asked, resting an elbow on the bar, putting him in an extremely cruel parody of when James and I came to the club for our second time. Fervently, I pushed the memories of James the jerk out of my mind and concentrated on Brandon's plump lips.

"Yeah…it's just…I've been busy, y'know."

He nodded, not fully believing me, but accepting it as enough of the truth. "Right…Look about that thing in the shower this morning-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Good," he smiled, obviously relieved that I wasn't asking for a commitment on his part. Pausing, he glanced out at the noisy crowd and left us silent for a minute. This gave me a chance to admire the muscles in his back, which led me to reconsider the move I had made in the shower. "Look, Alanza, I still want to hang out and all-"

He hadn't even finished his sentence when I launched myself at him. Smothering his lips, I ate away hungrily at him, feeling the tension that I had been carrying around all day unload itself. 

I would've assumed he would have been at least slightly fazed by being attacked by a girl that he only worked with, but of course he wasn't. As I kissed his neck, he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, "My place…now."

I don't recall how we ended up at his apartment, but somehow we did and my bike was in the parking lot below. He protested to nothing except that I give him time to enter his room; I gave him just enough to open the door before I was on top of him, shoving the door closed with one kick. 

His floor was wooden and cold, yet I was oblivious to it all. I ripped at his clothing, pleading and begging with it to come off, while he did the same with mine. His hands over my breasts were like animal paws, violent and hungry. Despite the fact we were only a couple feet away from the door, neither of us noticed nor cared. After all, I was blind by being in heat and he, well, he was blind just by being a male.

He pressed his body against mine as I ground my hips against him, pleading to be taken. Somehow, I ended up in just my panties, while he was in jeans still. I could feel him growing hard against my crotch; his erection would soon split the zipper seam if he didn't get those goddamn jeans off soon. So, fumbling with his pants, I tore them off him so that we were both nearly naked, rocking with each other, groaning and whimpering like little children.

"Brandon…" I moaned as he gyrated next to me, touching my innermost wetness with one finger.

Had I been in a fairly sane frame of mind, I would have thrown him clear across the tiny apartment. If I ended up pregnant or with some kind of disease, I would have no one to blame but myself. Then, I, too, would have to hang onto a dead child just like Case had. Mom would probably forgive me, having gone through similar situations, but Dad would disown me, leaving forever. Not like I was planning on a family reunion with him anytime soon, though. 

Still, upon seeing Brandon all hard and ready, I figured that it was time to start living by my own rules. Not my family's. Pregnancy was the least worry on my mind; getting Brandon inside me in the shortest amount of time was my biggest.

With one powerful stroke, he split me open, slamming into my burning body so that I screamed his name. Not long after, he was moaning for me so that it sounded as if he was on the verge of tears. He pumped, causing his thick necklace to hit against my chin, in a smooth manner. A delicate rhythm. Over and over he came, spilling into me, and I climaxed several times before he finally stopped, leaving us both breathless and in a blank stupor.

We fell asleep, still on the floor and naked, in each other's arms. I could have stayed with him and forgotten James forever, but I knew that I couldn't love someone just because their sex was better than I had ever imagined. 

So, I gathered my clothes up in a blind panic, trying not to cry because my first time was with someone I didn't even give a damn about. Yet, the minute I reached my loyal motorcycle, I burst into horrendous sobs and didn't even have the courage to gun the engine like I usually did. It was time to go home and think about suicide. I couldn't live my life this way. I refused to.


	95. Whatever We Started

The apartment was blanketed in a thick dark quietness when I arrived home, shuddering and crying, blistering tears trailing down my flesh. I threw myself on the couch and buried my head into the cushions as the condensation of my hot breath built around my face. Warm phlegm rose in the back of my throat and I gagged, sobbing and moaning. My mind was abnormally blank, making thinking extremely difficult. Yet, despite my mental blindness, I was at least able to come to the harsh realization that my virginity had been wasted on some nameless nitwit. 

It wasn't that I was upset about no longer remaining pure and true because it was, after all, the 21st century, but that, for the first heat ever, I was unable to control myself. Since I had begun going into heat around the age of fifteen or so-which could account as another reason for Dad's departure-I had only been in heat for less than ten times. And, each occasion, I was able to control myself before anything too "out of line" occurred. Perhaps I was upset that my first time was gone, but like I already stated, that wasn't my biggest trouble. What bothered and irked me the most was that I was no longer in power of what I could and couldn't do. 

After lying on the couch for some time, I found myself becoming nauseous due to my anxiety. Grabbing my abdomen, I skittered to the bathroom, where I knelt over the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach. I gripped the sides of the glittering porcelain fiercely, dizzy and confused. The acid burned my throat and caused my nose to trickle. Finally, when the disgusting smell made me swoon so badly, I could no longer support myself, I flushed the toilet and went back out to the couch to attempt a chance for sleep. 

Yet, that would not be so.

Suddenly, the apartment became flooded with light, and Mom was crouching next to me, apparently having just heard the rumbling of the plumbing as my vomit was pushed away, rubbing my shoulders. "Alanza, what's wrong?"

"I want to die."

Her hand stiffened and stopped its massaging. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice lowered to a shocked decibel.

I picked my head up and wiped at my dribbling nose. "I want to die! I can't live this way anymore, Mom!"

"Alanza, honey, what happened?"

I rose to my feet and pushed her away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Please…"

"Why does everything have to come back to Manticore? Why can't they just leave me alone?!" I spat vehemently. Still crying, the tears tumbled off my dirty cheeks and onto the floor below. I was acting like a fool, and we both knew it, but wouldn't dare to say so. Mom sat, rapt and mute, on the couch watching me with intensity and sympathy. She knew what I was going to tell her before I even said it.

"You can talk about it, if you want," she offered, attempting to be supportive. Well, I suppose she was; she was helping a lot more than anyone else had during the entire day.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" I echoed. "Why not?!" Laughing, I threw my head back like an insane psychotic and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair. Finally, I let my hands flop down to my sides in submission. "Look, Mom, I went out tonight because I thought I could escape it all, and it turns out that everything just came back to bite me in the ass even more than I would have hoped."

"What do you mean?"  
"I screwed some guy in his apartment without even knowing his last name!" I screamed, my face on fire. "And the whole damn time I could only think about James, but because of having mostly feline DNA, I just kept right on going with this guy because I had to clear the heat. I just wanted to escape…and I did…" At that, I collapsed to the ground, falling down on my knees, while my hands covered my face protectively. "I just want to be normal for once…"

Mom walked over to me and knelt down beside me, rubbing her motherly hand over my shaking shoulders. "I know it's not easy."

"That'd be an understatement."

"But, everything will turn out all right in the end." She paused, as if debating what she was about to say. "Maybe, Alanza, maybe you should talk to James."

My head shot up in shock, while my eyebrows narrowed in fury. "Talk to him? Why should I?"

"Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I went through a similar experience with Logan, before you were born, that is." Mom shook her head and smiled, remembering what had happened. Yet, her grin wasn't a normal happy expression, in fact, it had a look of cynicism and doubt to it. "I went off with some guy because I couldn't be with Logan during heat for my own reasons. I ended up telling Logan everything. And you know what?"  
"What?" I asked, barely listening.

"He forgave me." She sighed and wrapped an arm protectively around me. "Look, Alanza, you're probably thinking that I'm just feeding you a bunch of b.s., but I'm not. I know you love James. You know you love James. A person doesn't spend nearly a week moping around after somebody just because. I'm not asking you to kiss up and get married, I'm just asking that you talk to him. Case has been calling all day, wanting you two to talk. So, personally, I starting to get sick of him," Mom laughed. "Besides, what harm could talking to James do?"  
"A lot."

"Go back to him."

"But I-"

"But what, Alanza?"

Sighing heavily, I shook my head blankly as I rose unsteadily to my feet, reaching for my coat. "I love him more than anything. More than I should. He lied to me. I lied to him. He probably even cheated on me." I opened the apartment door, leading out into the early morning, which I estimated the time to be approximately four or five in the morning. In the grimy window, I could see the sun rising in the distance, bringing with it a whole new day. A whole new chance. "But, I can't walk away without closure. I have to talk to him. I have to see him. And, most importantly, I have to finish whatever we started."


	96. Gathered One Another

Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe I was too forgiving. Yet, I went back to him. I didn't want to kiss him. I didn't want to touch him. I didn't even want to look in his eyes. All I really wanted was to talk to him. 

Riding through the streets of Seattle with the pink sun rising in the distance, I flash-backed to the first time I had met James. It was a wicked vision, but yet it came to me nonetheless as if forcing me to remember just how easily James and I clicked. It had all started while I was plopped at the dance club bar with my pitiful beer.

__

As I was sitting there, sipping away, I didn't notice a man who had sat down beside me. It wasn't until he had received his drink, that I fully noticed him. 

"Hello," I said.

"Hi," he smiled back, revealing perfectly formed teeth. 

I removed my clammy hand from the side of my glass cup and wiped it on my pants before offering it to him. "Alanza," I told him. Having no friends in Seattle my own age, I figured it was time to start making some. Starting then.

"Alanza?" he repeated curiously. "It's pretty."

"Thanks."

He accepted my hand and shook it warmly. "I'm James." 

The guy was sexy. There really wasn't any other way to describe him besides to say he was a beautiful human. He had dark brown hair, kind of like my mom's when she was younger. The hair was piled on top of his head in slight curls, waves almost, just so there was enough texture to his hair. His eyes, a warm coffee brown, were above his perfectly sculpted nose on light skin. He was built, and from the short sleeved shirt he wore, I could see the roundness of his upper arms. 

I rested my head on my clasped hands and stared evenly at him, trying to invade his mind while keeping a normal conversation and not spacing out. "So how long have you lived in Seattle?" I asked him.

"Two days."

"Two days? You visiting or something?"

"I wish, but no. I'm here with my dad."

"Family problems?" I questioned upon hearing the disgust in his voice as he talked about his dad.

"Yeah, me and my dad…we don't get along too well. I used to live out with my mom in Wisconsin and then moved out of the house when I got old enough. But my dad just calls one day out of the blue, and it's like he suddenly wants to be a parent."

"That's kinda how my family worked."

"Really?"

"Well, after I turned fifteen, my dad basically left. I mean, he's been back a couple times in those three years, but not much," I replied with a shrug.

"At least he stayed around for some of your life." 

"Why don't you just go back to Wisconsin?"

James grinned almost sheepishly. "I don't have the money or the transportation. I'm job searching actually right now."

"You're going to work here?" I questioned, motioning to the bar.

He laughed. "No, my parents would both kill me. They think I need a 'respectable job that promotes the well-being of a studious mind'." He laughed again, "Yeah right." Pausing to sip his drink, he turned to me. "So how long have you been here?"

"Since this morning," I answered with a laugh. "So, you're better off than I am." 

"Parents?" he questioned as my reason for coming to Seattle.

"Mm-hmm," I replied as I drank a bit of my drink. Pausing, I listened as a good song came on the radio. It was an oldie, like the others had been, but it was fairly fast paced and made something inside of me dance.

I set my drink down on the bar. "You wanna go dance?" I asked James.

"Uh…no thanks, I'm not really one for dancing," he admitted reluctantly. 

I shrugged. "You can join me if you want." With a smile back at him, I headed out onto the tiny dance floor. I wasn't going to let some guy I had just met burst my party bubble. 

The music was throbbing, and I could feel the bass beating through the soles of my tennis shoes. Before I knew it, I had lost myself in the rhythm and beat, pleased with life temporarily. Just as I swung myself around, my flexible body bending into any position I pleased, a warm hand touched me on the shoulder. 

I opened my eyes and found myself staring at James. "Invitation accepted," he said politely. I grinned and grabbed him by the wrists, pulling him onto the dance floor. Maybe life in Seattle was better than I thought it was going to be. 

Coming out of the dream sequence, I felt myself smile. Life in Seattle hadn't been all that bad. Well, with the exception of Manticore bounty hunters, Mom's accident, Dad's departure, and Brin's deteriorating condition, I thought that Seattle had proven to be plentiful. After all, I had met Case, Max, and even James. I did hate him for everything he had said back in his car, but I hadn't been the nicest person either. Besides, all I had to do was talk with him. Nothing more would be requested.

Finally, I arrived at his apartment complex and cut the engine of my motorcycle, gazing up at the large building as the sun crested over the top of it. My heart pounded heavily, yet fluttered with nervousness while I felt sick to my stomach. I willed whatever digested food was left down there to stay right where it was. That was the last thing I needed: James seeing me, bent over and hurling, in his building's parking lot. Naturally, it would make for quite a conversation opener. 

Still, I pulled off my helmet, raked trembling fingers through my hair and headed on inside. It was now or never. 

Just I reached James' floor, I saw the door to his individual apartment open, and he stepped out. We nearly ran right into each other, which caused for some embarrassed laughs and nervous apologies.

"A-Alanza, what are you doing here?" he asked, backing tentatively away. He was wearing a three-quarter sleeved shirt, which allowed me to see his bruises perfectly; I had been quite the little monster.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I was just on my way to find you, too," he replied. There was a long, uncomfortable pause until he cleared his throat timidly and gestured to his cracked apartment door. "You want to come in?"  
"I…uh…sure, I guess," I stumbled acting like more of an idiot than I had feared. 

Wringing his hands, James nodded more to himself than me. "All right, then, c'mon in." He pushed the door open with one hand, allowing me to enter before him. I reminded myself that if a blond hooker came running out of his bedroom, I'd slap him across the face right then and there.

"You want something to drink?" he asked, attempting to be the polite James I knew.

"No," I replied as I shook my head, glancing around the apartment. It seemed as though the place should have been different because I had left his life. Yet, not a single thing had changed, which disappointed me to a certain extent.

"Go ahead and sit down," he offered, extending a hand. Slowly, I sank down on the couch, while he was smart enough to sit down in a chair some distance away. Again, there was another excruciating moment of silence before I cleared my throat. 

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened."

"All right." 

"I'm not asking for answers because that doesn't really matter anymore since we…well…"

"Separated?" he suggested, resting his palm on his forehead as he stared at the space between my feet. Obviously, James hadn't taken the break-up as well as I'd assumed. 

"Okay, if that's what you want to say. Sure. Separated. That doesn't matter, though. I left you because I felt betrayed. I felt like you didn't give a damn about me or anything else." Great, I groaned to myself, now he probably thinks that you've been to a shrink with all the "I" statements that you just used. Well, screw what he thinks. Just keep talking. "I'm not going to lie to you anymore. I went out with another guy tonight." James' head popped up in surprise, then sank back down slowly. "The thing is, it meant nothing to me…_he_ meant nothing to me. The entire time I was with him, I kept thinking of you. You and how you look, how you act…how you just _are_. I didn't want to be with him; I wanted to be with you."

Sighing heavily, I leaned forward on the couch, trying to push back the tears that threatened my voice. "James, I spent three days living off juice and jam because I missed you so damn much. Case won't leave me or my phone lines alone, and now my own mother is insisting that I come back to you. But none of that matters, I suppose." I stopped, lowering my pinched voice before I spoke again. "What does matter is that I wake up every morning, sick and hollow with crusted tear lines on my face because I-"

"Because I cry myself to sleep every night, wishing that you were there beside me because I'm so cold and alone without you?" James asked, finishing for me. "Yes, Alanza, I know," he whispered, lifting his eyes to meet mine. "I do that too."

He was the first one to break, moving towards me with open arms as I slid off the couch enclosing him. We were both sobbing and crying like fools, yet neither one of us cared. Then, James pulled away and reached into his pocket. "Wait. This, you might want back." There, lying in a golden puddle in the middle of his palm was the ruby necklace I had chucked at him the night we separated. No longer torn in two, the necklace was once again complete.

"It's fixed," I stated as I sob rose in the back of my throat. 

"May I?" he asked, raising the necklace, silently asking if he could put it back on. 

I gathered my hair in a fist and nodded. He leaned in close and clasped the necklace, then pulled away, meeting my glazed eyes. His scent of naturalness made me swoon. "I love you, Alanza," he whispered, brushing away a strand of hair. "And I never want to hurt you again. Never. You have to believe me."

I pressed his warm palm to the side of my cold cheek and smiled, despite the tears. "I believe you, James." And with that, we gathered one another in the other's arms and our lips met, sealing our love.


	97. My Stomach Heaved

Three days later found me running frantically around the apartment, asking Mom which shoes looked best with the dress I was wearing, while Original Cindy curled Mom's hair in the bathroom. Earlier, James and I had arranged dinner together, resulting in what we called, "Dinner Date Number Four". After all the other accidents, we assumed it best to start an ordering system and see if any connections could be made. Besides, he had said, he wanted to know how old we would be when we reached one hundred. I wasn't sure how to accept that comment, so I didn't push it any further than necessary.

Brandon had called a few times after our run in back in his apartment, only be greeted by Original Cindy, who claimed that she "didn't swing 'dat way 'cause no girl named Alanza lived at 'er house". I really did love having her around. Really.

Nonetheless, James and I had planned on dinner three days after our "coming together", per se, yet it was I who suggested the presence of parents. I told him that Mom wanted to meet him, and I was looking forward to kicking his father's ass. This caused James to laugh, which ended up in his unspoken agreement.

For the banquet that night, Logan had bought Mom an absolutely gorgeous fuchsia dress sprinkled with black flowers. I don't know how much the dress had cost because, being the gentleman that he was, Logan wouldn't say; I did know that it was at least four figures-the information smuggled from Cindy, of course. Personally, I wouldn't ever spend that much on a dress. But, he was Logan, and she was Mom. No additional comments were needed.

Syl had lent me one of her old dresses that was too big, which ended up fitting me perfectly. It was a long, black, almost ballroom type of dress, with satin topping that hung tastefully on my body. Around the base was a line of Austrian crystals accompanied by miscellaneous sparkles glinting all over the remainder of the dress. Unsure of which shoes to wear, I asked both Mom and Original Cindy; they both agreed on the black over the silver shoes.

Just as I was buckling the tiny strap on the back of my shiny, high-heeled sandals, there was a knock at the door. Mom, who was in the bathroom with Cindy, called out to the living room, "Alanza, will you get that?"

"Yeah," I responded, straightening myself until I got a satisfactory crack out of my spine.

The knocking became more persistent so I yelled back to the person that I was coming. With a groan to myself, I muttered, "Impatient jerk."

Yet, upon opening the door, nothing could have prepared me for the one person who stood there. I nearly fell back and would've collapsed on the floor had I not caught myself on the corner of the couch, thanks only to instinctive reflexives. Shaking my head, which caused the two curls that had been freed from my tight up-do to jingle, I tried to form words that would not come as I wobbled back up to my feet.

"Alanza, are you all right?" Mom asked, apparently not seeing who was at our front-and only-door.

"I'm fine." Then, I straightened myself slowly and met the person's eyes with a blank gaze. After all, I could think of nothing else to say or do. "You actually came back," I said to them, shaking my head in disbelief, while pursing my lips. "I can't believe it…You've returned, Dad."

Dad studied me for a moment, examining the apartment like a spy. He was dressed in his typical façade of leather jacket, cheap shirt, and blue jeans accompanied by army boots. All in all he looked exactly the same as he had the night he left New York-right down to the dried blood on his coat sleeve that hadn't been bothered to be wiped off. Finally, he cleared his throat and responded in a low undertone while refusing to meet my eyes, "I had to."

"Alanza, who is that?" Mom questioned again.

"Dad's back."

I heard the clattering of something in the bathroom, a hairbrush perhaps, followed by a hiss of "holy shit" and Mom came hopping out, struggling to put on one of her shoes. Apparently, she didn't believe me. But, when she, too, came face to face with Dad, her expression fell, making me unable to detect if she was happy, sad or just plain pissed that he had the gall to come back. Cindy stayed, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching with bland intensity.

"Well, well, well…" was all that Mom could say.

"Good to see you too, Max," Dad replied sarcastically. Pushing past me so that he could fully enter the apartment, he strode over to the large window above the couch, covering the distance in less than three steps, and looked down at the streets. Arching an aged eyebrow, he glanced back to the dumbfounded Mom and I, eyeing us over. "And should I ask why you two are so dressed up?"

"Hold on," Mom said, approaching him with crossed arms and a rather irritated look on her face. "You've been gone nearly a month without any form of communication or reason for your leaving and suddenly _you_ want to ask _us _why we're acting the way we are?" She laughed faintly, shaking her head, while brandishing her finger as if at a disobedient child. "Zack, it doesn't work that way."

"Fine then," he shot back angrily in a violent snarl, indicating that he didn't want to take time with such frivolous nonsense, but would do anyway, just so that he could later bargain for his own requests. "Ask away, Max."

"Why'd you leave?"

"Manticore…I told Alanza that."

"So I heard," she responded with an irked look. "Well, then, why'd you come back at all?"

"To take you out of here."

"I don't think so," I protested, stepping forward. Dad looked shocked to see me speaking, and tried to hide his instinctive flinch from me, but I was better than he thought. "I'm not going to say I'm not happy to see you because I am. I really am, Dad. But that doesn't change the fact that you left me alone in New York City without anybody-"

"Krit and Syl were there."

"They were nearly on the verge of suicide from traumatic depression."

"Case was there, too."

"He's not a whole lot older than I am."

"You're eighteen Alanza. When I was eighteen, I-"

"You _are_ my _father_!" I cried, my voice rising to a harsh pitch. "You are the only one I have! How can you just leave me there and then expect to come back into my life without any hesitation?! How?! You haven't been here for the past month or more, so you're just going to assume that everything's the way it was? Well, it's not. I'm not the same person I was one month ago." I shook my head. "I don't know why you came back. Manticore, probably, right? In that case, I'll tell you this much: Mom and I were invited to dinner with James and his father, which we should be leaving right now, in fact, because we still have to drive slowly on the bike to pick up Logan's Azteck. You can come if you want, Dad. To be realistic, I would love it if you could come. Really, I would. But, I know that's not going to happen. So, now, what did you want to say?"  
Dad paused, swallowed, then began, "Manticore's alive. I found a base in Illinois. I want all the remaining X5s here in ten minutes. You too, Max." 

Mom, who was now finished dressing walked towards Dad and held her face close to his. "Zack, if you just didn't hear our daughter, I have a dinner to attend tonight. I'll be back in about two hours. Okay? Good. Catch ya later." And with that, she turned and began heading down the stairs, the sound of her clipping heels fading away until I could hear them no more. 

Dad turned to me, and meeting sad eyes, he asked, "Well?" He was losing control, and we both knew it. Yet, he was fervently going to grasp for any threads that he could. Personally, I was surprised that he didn't snatch up Mom and I, making us stay. Something had hit him hard, and had changed his personality from the man I remembered to the intruder who stood before me.

"Well, what?" 

"You going to dinner or not?"

"You still holding that meeting?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Then, yes, Dad, I am still going to dinner."

Mom and I, after riding her motorcycle to Logan's penthouse, grabbed his car and then headed onto the restaurant. He claimed that by taking his car, it would allow us to stay in fairly good shape without looking like a bunch of hillbillies on the way to their cousin's-or sister's- wedding. Personally, I was starting to see why Mom liked Logan so, and I regretted the harsh words I had thrown at her in our previous fight. Eventually, I would have to apologize to him, too. But there would be time for that later, of course. 

In the restaurant's parking lot, I spotted James' little Ford. Grinning, I hopped out, clutching my dress so it didn't become dirty on the pavement. 

"See?" I asked Mom, pointing to his car. "That's his."

"Awful small," she commented with a grimace as she locked the doors with Logan's automatic key ring; Mom had never been a person for small, enclosed areas anyhow.

"It works for him," I replied, giving her a blank shrug, and we headed inside to escape the November chill. 

Upon entering the silver framed doorways, I began to wonder just how much this meal was going to cost. After all, James and I had agreed to pay for our own food, plus parents', and I had figured at the very most fifty dollars would be needed. Yet, with a quick glance around, I was beginning to think otherwise. At the front of the restaurant, there was a stage set up, where a heavy set black woman lulled the crowd with a rich voice that rivaled Max's rock singers from long ago, while tiny tables were arranged around this main attraction on a sea of crimson carpeting. Each cherry wood table was covered in a white, lacy tablecloth, and the chairs were backed with high black swooping iron frames. A single rose blossom was placed in a glass bowl of water in the direct middle of each sitting arrangement with chubby vanilla candles on either side. 

After we had entered and gaped at the ornate interior, Mom squeezed my forearm. "I'm going to head to the bathroom," she whispered, leaning in close enough for me to smell Logan's cologne and her pasty lipstick; I had never liked the scent of lipstick. Too bland for my tastes.

"Do you want me to wait here for you or find James?" I asked.

"You can go sit with James…wherever he is," she replied, arching her neck to look through the plants that topped the separation of eating and waiting areas. "I can't see him, but maybe you can, considering you got the better height."

"Okay," I nodded, smiling. "I'll see what I can do."

Mom grinned back; we were both so happy despite the fact that Dad had shown back up at one of the worst possible times. Well, I suppose if he had appeared during my frantic heat period that definitely would have been worse. Shuddering, I willed myself not to think such perverse thoughts and to find James.

I told the greeter, who prevented me from entering the chic dining area at first, that I was with James Wilson. After a tedious check down a fancy list, the man let me pass. If he hadn't, I would've gone in anyway.

With the plants out of my vision, I was able to see more clearly and spot James on the other side of the restaurant. He had an elbow resting on a partition, cupping his chin in a palm so that he stared away from me. Wearing a black pair of pants with a loose button-down silver satin shirt, I realized that he and I must have had some kind of telepathic connection going on, considering that we had worn such starkly similar clothing. His father, though, was nowhere to be seen.

Politely squeezing my way through the sea of cramped tables, I meandered over to James and greeted him with a peck on the cheek. He looked surprised to see me, but I tried not to take it personally due to the fact that he was probably over-stressed with his father being there. 

"How are you doing?" I asked, curling my arm around his waist.

"Considering the circumstances, not too bad."

"Where's your dad?"

"Bathroom." He paused, then noticed I was alone. "Where's your mom?"

"Bathroom," I laughed. 

Sighing together, he shook his head in disgust, "Parents."

A couple minutes later, an older man came from what must have been the men's room. He was glancing around nervously, yet smiled when he saw me. 

"This must be Alanza," he replied in a husky voice that came from old age and probably one too many cigars back in the day. He was a little bit shorter than I was, but built stocky with silver hair that looked like he was losing most of it. He wore a faded brown leather jacket that eerily mirrored Dad's black one, along with black slacks, a dull mossy green sweater, and black wingtip shoes.

I tried to force an artificial smile. All in all, I could slightly picture him being the sleaze that both Case and James claimed him to be. Still, it didn't seem that possible. There was something that disturbed me about this man, but I knew that condoms in the bathroom didn't fit the profile of my troubles with him.

"_Dad_," James said through gritted teeth, glancing away testily. 

"Oh, sorry son, please, you do the introductions." Immediately, I sensed the challenge between the older and younger man. James' father apparently thought that he could run his own show, while James wanted to be polite and introduce us himself.

"Fine." James extended his hand towards me in a swooping gesture. "Dad, this is Alanza, my girlfriend." I found it odd that he had left off my last name, but I didn't question it. "Alanza, this is my father-"

Just as he was about to speak, Mom came running from the other side of the restaurant, screaming my name. "Alanza! Get away from him! Now, Alanza!"

"What?" I asked, but barely had time to think before she clutched my arm protectively. In a matter of seconds she had gone from one end of the room to the other.

James' father stiffened, and his voice came out in a whisper as he met my mother's eyes. "Max…"

With a fierce glare towards the older man, Mom hissed to me, digging her nails sharply into my upper arm, "We have to leave, _now._" The restaurant was a mess; the lady had stopped singing and people were yelling at Mom for interrupting their meal. A couple waiters were making their way towards her, trying to restrain the psycho lady.

"But I-"

"Don't argue!" she snapped in a fierce tone that I had never heard her use. She literally pulled me in a blind run as we flew over the tables out to the vehicle. I barely had time to close my door before she gunned the engine and sped off. Driving like a maniac, she swerved past other cars out of the road, while pushing the speed limit by at least thirty miles. Logan's old Azteck screamed with pain as Mom skidded rapidly around a corner, flipping hand over hand on the steering wheel.

"What the hell was that all about?" I asked, brushing my tangled hair out of my eyes.

"Alanza, what is the name of James' father?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know, why?"

"What's James' last name?"

"He goes by his step-dad's: Wilson."

"You don't know James' biological name, then?"

"No…Mom, what are you trying to get at?"

Mom sighed heavily and checked her side mirror before glancing over at me. Her face was blank, and I knew that whatever answer she would tell me would not be something that I could look forward to. My stomach heaved, anticipating her response, and I nearly lost it all as she said, "Alanza, James' father, that man we met tonight, is no one else besides Donald Lydecker."


	98. Four Words

We burst through the apartment doors, scaring the hell of out Dad, who had a gun drawn and cocked even before Mom had time to even breathe. But, seeing that it was only us, he put the firearm back in his belt and asked what was wrong.

I noticed that the entire group of remaining X5s was back and sitting at our kitchen table. Jace, Krit, Syl, and Brin were all gathered together and looked at the disheveled Mom and I with frightened faces. Brin was in a wheelchair as Syl massaged her wrinkled skin, while Krit and Jace remained apart. Cindy was no where to be seen, but I remembered that she had a date that night, and Dad had probably kicked her out anyhow.

"There's been a slight problem," Mom replied, grabbing Krit's glass of water and chugging it down. I had failed to notice during our mad rush back home that she had broken out into a sweat. Had I truly had time to think, I would've noticed her quivering hand as well.

"Like what kind of problem?" Dad asked, rising to his feet from his spot at the table. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he looked at Mom and I with questionable-but cold-eyes.

"Like the kind of problem that Donald Lydecker is still alive and has a son, who Alanza has been unknowingly dating."

Dad's eyes sliced inward to harsh daggers. "What? No." he shook his head, trying to sort out his jumbled mind. "No, Lydecker died a good couple months ago."

"Well, then, Zack, you drive down to that restaurant and tell me why he's standing there shaking my daughter's hand!" 

Mom's remark hit Dad like a physical slap, and I could see its effect. With a curt nod in the other X5's direction, he stated, "Let's get going. We can't stay here much longer."

"I have to go see James," I responded. "I have to ask him what's going on."

"You, 'Lanza," Dad replied, pointing a stiff finger at me, "are not going anywhere. If what Max says is true, you're in real danger."

"You don't even know him!"  
"I don't have to know _him_ because I know his goddamned father!" Dad spat, his face flushing with rage. 

I didn't reply as I turned sharply on my heels and headed for the door. In a flash, Dad was standing in front of me, blocking my exit. For an old guy, he could move pretty fast.

"Get out of my way," I hissed.  
"I'm not going to let you do this."

"Out of my way or I go through you, what's it gonna be?" 

"You want to take me on, huh, 'Lanza? Go ahead," he snapped. 

Grabbing him by the wrists, he turned me inwards so that his forearm was pushing down on my jugular. I gasped for air, attempting to bite his hand, but slightly stunned to be in such a military position. Mom was screaming something that I couldn't hear above the pounding of my blood. Dad, though, leaned his head close to my ear, and hissed, "Get your head in the game, soldier." Soldier. The word sent a shock wave through my body. I was just a soldier to him. With one violent kick backward into his shin, I loosened his resolves and, moving at a speed close to light, I flipped him around to face me.

"Think I'm not in the game?!" I cried, watching in almost childish delight as his eyes narrowed in fury, trying to contain his amazement. Then, clutching him by his lapels, I tossed him fiercely to the ground without a second thought, throwing my entire body weight with him so that I landed overtop of him, barely avoiding Mom's toes. "Think again," I hissed, pressing my face close to his.

Standing up, I didn't even wait long enough to see his response, but instead brushed my dress off and opened the door. "'Lanza, no!" he yelled, trying to stop me. But, by the time he had risen to his feet, I was already on my motorcycle and heading down to James' apartment.

It took me approximately one-third of the time it usually did to reach James' due to the fact I pushed the speed limit. A cop saw me speeding down the road, my hair flying out underneath my helmet and immediately jumped on my tail like the anxious doughnut-lover he was. Fortunately, I was able to lose him in a back alley after leading him down a dead end, then turning around and jumping over the hood of his car, leaving him to do nothing but sit and swear. 

Yet, my disappointment was tremendous upon arriving at James' when I saw that his car wasn't in the lot, and, figuring by some minute chance that his father could have dropped him off, I stood outside his apartment door, knocking fervently for a good five minutes. A nosy neighbor told me to "quit the goddamned knocking", while I shot back with a fierce "go to hell". After all, if Mom was telling the truth that James' father was Lydecker, we needed to talk as soon as possible.

By the time my knuckles were sore from knocking, I reluctantly gave up and began to head back home. Being slightly saddened that James was not available, I took my time getting back home. I figured that maybe he would be out on the streets, driving home in his little Focus from the restaurant, and I would then be able to catch him that way. But, to no avail. So, I returned home empty-handed and answerless. Neither situation I wanted to be in, yet there was no other way to go. Now, I had to face the furious father and try to explain to him why I had burst out on him like I had. It wasn't going to be pretty, so I was secretly hoping that Mom would back me up.

In our building, I trudged up the cracked stairs, my mind a sick whirlwind, attempting to process all of the information that had been fed to me in less than two hours. James' father was Donald Lydecker? No, it couldn't be. Dad had seen the dead 'Deck with his own eyes…it wasn't possible. And, none of the things that I had heard from James and Case made any sense either. A hooker loving construction CEO? Case had met Lydecker, for pete's sake, so maybe Mom was mistaken. Yes, that was all, Mom was getting her facts twisted because she was all hyped up about Dad's return. Nothing more. This new revelation caused me to feel fairly pleased with myself, and I almost skipped up the stairs, delighted with my newfound logic that my boyfriend wasn't the enemy.

Yet, all existing pleasure turned to dread when I came upon our apartment, and I froze right in my steps, not wanting to believe the scene in front of me was real. It was just a dream…no, it was a nightmare. 

The flimsy wooden door was torn off its hinges, thrown nearly half way down the hallway, splintered in half right across the middle, while the frame where it had once stood was literally peeling off the plaster walls. My heart thudding dreadfully, I hurried inside the apartment, praying for Mom or Dad to be there, and nearly threw up when I saw what was inside. 

Brin's wheelchair was flipped over, the canvas seat slashed in two with the metal frame hellishly bent, which lay right next to the crushed couch that was ripped open, vomiting its cotton innards across the floor. The table where Krit, Syl, and Jace had been sitting only minutes before was bent, cracked under the weight of some fiend who had jumped on it. Pressing my hand to the cheap wood, I could feel the outline of Dad's shoe. After all, he had the biggest feet of anyone that I had ever known. 

A strangled sob rose in the back of my throat, but I forced it down, willing myself to be strong during such a moment. Underneath the dying table, was a puddle of blood, which wasn't extremely monstrous, but ominous enough. Somebody had been hurt. Somebody had been hurt bad. 

All in all, the apartment was a war zone with dirty footprints on the walls, dents smashed into cupboard that hung lazily by broken hinges, and food that had been sitting on the countertop mashed into the ground. 

I turned away from the scene and was about to go into the extra bedroom, when something met my precise eyes. Scrambling towards the object that shone in the apartment light, I crouched down and picked up Dad's watch. Surprisingly, it wasn't broken or cracked, but perfectly in tact as if he had thrown it before blackness welcomed him in. An inner sixth sense told me that he had left it for me to find. I knew, then, that I was my family's only hope for escape from Manticore. After all, it didn't take a genius to put the puzzle together: Lydecker in the restaurant, James missing, and my family taken away. Mom was right; Lydecker was back and I waited one moment too soon. Had I not left to find James in vain, perhaps I could've saved them. Now, they were suffering because of me. 

My body burned with adrenaline-the kind of nervous, tingly feeling that occurs just before the gun in blown in a track meet-and, furiously, I changed into my street clothes in a flash. Fastening the watch around my wrist, I smiled, despite my present situation. Dad, I'm coming. 

A noise from downstairs distracted me for a minute, and I exited the apartment and peered down the crumbling stairs. At the bottom, entering the doors of the lobby, black suited sector police, pushed pashed the frightened citizens, assuring them that "they would find the burglar", and they began to move up the stairs towards my location, ready to search for a man that would never dare to be found.

Quickly, I dashed inside the apartment, and I grabbed a scrap piece of paper, which advertised for cheap yoga lessons downtown, scribbled a message on it, knowing that Cindy would be back from her date, then laid it on the seat of Mom's motorcycle that she still parked inside. Logan or someone must have delivered it after Mom and I had gone to dinner-but before Lydecker came back.

Then, I turned, and in one blind rage, I flew through the window, making sure my head was tucked downwards-just like I was diving into the pool where I had nearly screwed Brandon-sending glass flying in all directions. I landed in the alley on my haunches, dashed to my bike, and roared off into the distance, hoping that I would be back. If not, Cindy would know where I had gone. I could only pray that she would understand the note I had left her. The four words, which were, of course, a wicked parody of an incident long dead, read, in my sloppy handwriting, _"Went back for them."_


	99. Choose To Be

"James!" I cried, pounding on his apartment door. "James Wilson!" Although, I was starting to believe that his father may have been Lydecker, I still wasn't ready to refer to James by that last name. It would be too weird. Too wicked. 

The ride to his building had been all but relaxing. On the way there, I had brushed shards of glass out of my hair and off my coat, shaking my head to remove all traces of having crashed through a window high above the ground. Less than five minutes later, I was standing outside James' apartment door, ready to break it down from impatience until I heard footsteps approaching and slowly the door creaked open in trepidation. Then, he sighed in relief and opened the door fully.

"Alanza…" he said. 

Furiously, I pushed right through the door and grabbed him by the collar of his silver shirt. "Where the hell is my family?" I asked, shoving him up against a wall.

"What?"

"My family!" I bellowed.

"Alanza, I-" 

I had heard enough of his pussy-footing around; in one harsh move, I pressed my forearm against his jugular, threatening to destroy him. My rage and hatred were nearly blinding now, and I didn't know how much longer I could control myself. I glared with my cat eyes, trying to bring out primal fear in him. "What did you do to my family?"

"I didn't do anything," he protested, pushing me back, which irritated me further, but I could see his anger beginning to flare. I had let him move me away. Had I wanted to kill him, I could have with one bare hand-or so I thought.

"Like hell," I shot, turning my back to him.

"I don't even know what you mean."

Then, I whipped around, my hair spiraling outward. "Your father, James, who is he?"

"What?" He was coming to his senses now, getting over his weak and mild state of mind from an unknown cause. If he was going to take me on, he couldn't be a wuss about it; I'd destroy him.

"Your damned father that I saw at the restaurant tonight and shook my hand, who the hell is he?!" I screamed through monstrous vocal chords. James glanced away, and I nearly pounced. Then, I hissed with venomous poison, "If you don't tell me, I'll hurt you…badly."

"Fine," James spat back, his own rage now building, which made us to be a very temperamental bunch of folks. "My father is Donald. Michael. Lydecker," he replied, carefully annunciating each individual word. "Happy, Alanza? What does it mean to you?"

"Did he take my parents?"

"What would my father want with your parents?" He was playing dumb, trying to get out of it, and we both knew it. Finally, it occurred to me why he was doing so: he didn't know that I knew about Manticore. James must have assumed that I didn't understand the secrets of Manticore, or he was unsure as to what I had been taught. Also, he probably wanted to save his own butt in the process, so he figured that if he played stupid, he could get away with his family heritage. All right, Jamesy boy, time for a reality check. Can't keep on hiding the mystery forever. Besides, he didn't have to find out who, or what, I was; I didn't think that I ever wanted him to come to that conclusion.

"Personally, I don't know exactly what your father would want my parents, but can tell you _why_ he does."

"And what would that be?" James shot back, not looking at me, but instead at the golden door handle beyond his reach.

"One word," I paused, inhaling deeply and feeding the furious fire inside of me, "Manticore."

James' head whipped towards me, and it was at this time that I noticed his shirt was ripped on the sleeves, while he had a growing black eye on the right side of his face. Apparently, I had been blinded by hatred, and failed to notice his injuries. "You know about Manticore?" he asked, his voice lowered tremendously.

"Yes," I acknowledged. "What _you_ know about it, though, is much more important."

"You want to hear what I know, Alanza?"

"Yes, I do."

"All right, then," he responded and slowly began walking over to his tiny kitchen as if walking to his death. Once in the kitchen, he began to open and close cupboards, apparently looking for something. As he was sifting through numerous drawers, he started to talk. "I know about your parents."  
"What about them?"  
"I know that they go by the names Max and Zack that their unit gave each other when young, but are truly genetically engineered soldiers born in Gillette, Wyoming, under careful surveillance of lab technicians. They both have barcodes in their DNA. Your mom's is 332960073452 and your dad's is 330417291559. But, their designation numbers, which begin with the code X5 that symbolizes the group they were born into, are X5-452 and X5-599." He glanced up at me, removing a piece of paper from a tiny cupboard, and tried to press out the wrinkles on the counter. 

Swallowing harshly, my anger giving way to slight fear and sadness as the truth began to fully bombard me in the face, I arched a weak eyebrow, wanting to pretend that I was still the strong person I claimed to be. "And what else? What else do you know?"

"I know who you are," he whispered, attempting to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. I jerked away under his touch, trying to dilute the physical contact into extinction.

"What?" My voice was weak, a lame hiss that would have sickened the poorest snake.

"I know who you are, Alanza Guevara, X10-415."

To say that I was nauseated would not even have begun to describe my feelings. I was ready to scream in rage and strangle James, then throw his pitiful body out of the room. I was prepared to go into insane sobs that would have racked my entire being until I was reduced to a sniveling pit of disgrace. I even wanted to do nothing but remove all food products from my stomach, then vomit some more. 

Slowly, I shrank against the wall, trying to put distance between James and myself. He terrified me because, deep down inside, I knew that he spoke the truth.

Nonetheless, I still whispered a faint, "No…"

"Yes. Alanza, it's all right here." He held out the piece of paper, wanting me to take it from him. I met his eyes, but refused to touch it. Finally, he crouched next to me on the ground and showed me the wrinkled and faded paper. "See?" he asked, pointing to the words that I couldn't comprehend, "this is you. It says that your father is X5-599, your mother is X5-452 and you were created on April 15, 2020 in the main Manticore base, Gillette. Eventually, all of this information comes together to form a barcode…_your_ barcode-my dad never got around to putting the sequence into your DNA, though-but you still were given one: 885994520415. That's you in Manticore terms." He sighed. "I know that this probably doesn't mean anything to you, but my father gave this to me when I began to work for him. He told me that this, this creation…you…were the ultimate goal. With you on his side, he would be unstoppable. I've kept this paper because I thought that perhaps, I could imagine the person that this barcode would be, and from there, I would find the courage to build Manticore. Then, I found you and everything changed."

I stared at the paper for a minute, forcing myself to understand everything that was laid out in front of me. A harsh red slash spliced the paper, while a stamp read, "Aborted" in big capital letters, convincing me that I was supposed to be dead.

James, seeing that I wasn't moving, sat down next to me, but, smartly, avoided touching me. Finally, not turning to make eye contact, I said, "Your father kidnapped my parents."

"I know…Alanza, I tried to stop him. Really, I did. I fought him, pleading with him, ripping the two-way from his grasp until I split my cuticles," James told me, raising his hand outward so that I could see the dried brown blood around his nails. "But, I couldn't fight all of them. They tied me, threw me in the back of a Hummer and knocked me unconscious. I woke up here, confused and hurt, still partially drugged, too. I tried to stop him. That's why everything's been so twisted lately. I've been trying to protect all of you."

"James?"  
"Yes?"

"If I were to ask you any question, would you start talking?"  
"I will answer everything. No more secrets. No more lies."

"Fine. I want you start about how you came around and end up now."

"All right, that I can do. The beginning starts out innocent enough, but I can't tell you the ending…not now, at least because, Alanza, I don't know the ending to this story.

"My father, Lydecker, was out on an escapee X5's trail in early 2018, when he ran into my mom in Michigan. Dad was still partially dealing with his alcohol addiction at the time because of the numerous failed attempts at X5 recapture, and she was lamenting the loss of her most recent boyfriend, so between beer and depression, they ended up in a hotel room. This is where I come into the picture because, I, unknowingly, was created that night. Once Mom found out she was pregnant, she told Dad. He threatened to kill her but let her live because he was weak, having not been hardened yet by the deaths of his precious X5s. If she promised never to say a word to anybody and live with the guilt of being a teenage mother, he would let her live. Obviously, she did so, and raised me on her own, never truly telling me what happened until I was older, right before I went off to college. Needless to say, I was shocked, but accepted it because, after all, I didn't know any of these 'transgenic freaks', so I didn't push the issue. By this time, she was living in northern Wisconsin with me, away from her hometown in Michigan where the pregnancy would only feed her drugged guilt.

"Once at college, I ran into Case. He was visiting from France with Charlie, and they weren't sure whether or not they wanted to live in the States. We hit it off immediately, neither one ever knowing how 'predestined', you could say, we were meant to be. One day, my father showed up in my dorm, babbling insanely about super-soldiers, and the next, Case disappeared. I got a phone call saying that I was to work for Manticore unless I wanted to see Case dead. Now, remember, I didn't know all that much about Manticore, but I cared for Case a lot, so went along with the plan. To make a long story short, Dad wanted me to work with him, and I didn't want to. I got Case out and instigated the big drug party at college not long after.

"Not being a professional crook, I had to find an easy way to get Case a new identity. So, I found a few guys that looked rather similar to Case-most college guys all look alike anyway-and made sure they were at the party. After some switching of dental and medical records with assistance from Victor-Max Jr.'s father-who was my only friend inside Manticore, I went to work. I purposefully made these guys overdose on drugs and was able to make it appear as though Case was the one who had died. Dad swooped in, found some guys that weren't an X5 child, and Case escaped. Little did I know, Max Jr. was still out there and found Case after I had mistakenly killed her boyfriend. To this day, she doesn't know what happened except that her ex died of a drug overdose. Case knows, but I don't think that he'll ever tell her.

"So, Case-with his new identity-and Max left, but I kept in contact with Case and made sure that Dad didn't trace me. I went back to Wisconsin, finished college there, and started working as an architect. Then, one day, I received a phone call from my father. He said that an uncle had died, and he wanted me to attend the funeral. Needless to say, I wasn't too receptive, but went along under my mom's persuasion of 'you need to learn about that side of your family, honey'. This supposed 'uncle' was the man your father saw dead in Phoenix."

"That's why I didn't believe that your dad's really Lydecker," I interjected.

"That's what you were supposed to believe: that Donald Lydecker died searching for the precious child of X5-599 and X5-452. Here's what he did, though, so the stories can be explained: Dad created a clone of himself after he realized that Renfro was out to kill him back in late 2019. He gave the clone steroids so it could bulk up enough, then injected it with Progeria so it could age to look like him. Brainwashed the sucker into believing that they were just going to take a nice trip through the desert in early 2038. Naturally, of course, this was not the case. The clone, which wasn't all that old, but could have passed for being a version of Dad-not exact of course, but it worked, went right along with Dad's psychotic plan. Then, using a faithful X7 female-X7-656, ironically-the clone was forced into the ditch and killed, making it appear as though Dad was the one who had died. 

"So, I was called out to Seattle, but it wasn't really for the funeral. I was supposed to be in charge of designing his new Seattle Manticore base. Apparently, a fire in 2020 had destroyed it, but he hadn't been able to find a trustworthy architect to rebuild the thing. I needed the money and told myself that as long as I didn't become emotionally attached to the project, I would be fine. Well, you came along and things began to turn ugly. I couldn't go to the site, which is located in the forests, any time I felt like it. That's what you heard over my cell in New York: Dad was yelling at me in the background to get to work, while I was at the base.

"Eventually, it was getting too risky. I had seen what had happened to Case, so I told him to start lying to you if anything about my father was asked. After all, he's the only other person who knows that my dad is Lydecker. He lied and he deceived you for the longest time, and we all know that. It wasn't his fault; I told him to."

"I still can't believe all of this…" I muttered.

"Anyhow, Dad began getting more and more impatient, pushing his way into my life, wanting to know every minute detail in case something, anything could be found. Case and you were both too close for comfort. Max Jr. I've never had to worry about because she's, hate to say it, but not that keen on the whole Manticore deal and would never be suspected of being part of it. Case, though, he knew way too much, and your parental background gave you away right then and there. So, I did what I had to: I destroyed lives."

"What do you mean?"  
"I killed Max's baby."

"How?"

"Saline liquid into the amniotic fluid. I drugged you with a little bit of sleeping aid that night in bed while you dozing, then headed over to her apartment. She didn't even know what hit her because she was asleep the whole time and woke up a little bit later with violent contractions."

"You could've killed her."

"I didn't, but Case was being too carefree with his identity, and I had to stop him. Hospital records would have noted that Case Smith had a child that night, and my dad would have been all over it."

"Still…"

"Still nothing. That's why Case called me a 'son of a bitch' because I told him what happened. I had to, the guilt was killing me. As for you, I did what any normal female would hate: I lied, I pretended to cheat. The condoms in the bathroom were a face to make you believe that I was sleeping around, while the entire 'don't go in the bathroom deal' was because my dad was in there."

"Lydecker was in the bathroom the whole time while we were lying on the couch?" I asked in disbelief, shocked as any person would be.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just say that you had company?"

"He's not company. Besides, I didn't…I just…I couldn't. Ok? Still, because I didn't let you in the bathroom, it gave me the perfect opportunity to plant the condoms. The extras are under my bed, never even been touched.

"I know what I've done, Alanza. I know that I've killed. I know that I've destroyed lives, but I did what I felt was necessary…necessary to protect you, all of you from my father. You have to believe me, and I'm not asking for forgiveness, I'm asking for understanding."  
I cupped my face in my hands as the awesome truth began pour down on me. Donald Lydecker was real, and he had my parents. They could die, while I was left alone with a man that I no longer knew.

James, seeing that I was obviously distressed, asked me what was wrong.

"What do you think is wrong?" I replied, refusing to look at him.

"I know that I gave you a lot of information, but-"

"James," I whispered, lifting my eyes to look at him beside me, "I don't even know who I am anymore. Am I Alanza, or X10-415? Are my parents Max and Zack or X5-452 and X5-599? My life, as far as I know it, has been wiped away completely."

He smiled faintly and moved around in front of me so that we were facing each other, still sitting on his floor. Outside, the sky was dark and I catch a glimmer of falling snowflakes. Barely into December and already there was snow. Still, I ignored it, wondering what James was up to.

"Alanza," he said, wiping back a strand of my hair, "I know who you are." He paused, as if admiring me for whatever reason. "You're better than all those other people out there, and it's not because you were made to be…it's because you choose to be."


	100. I know, Logan, I know

Once I got my head back onto its correct placement after a couple minutes of doing nothing but staring blankly off into space, I rose to my feet, filled with James' words of both power and weakness. All of the information he had fed to me was going to be put to good use, whether he liked it or not-I would die trying, if that's what it took.

As James and I stood, face to face, we met eyes. Eyes that were no longer separated by being merely male and female. Eyes that could never come together as boyfriend and girlfriend. They were the eyes of the damned, eyes that knew too much and would reveal it for too high of a price. We were forever separated by the fact that he was the prince of the Manticore dynasty, and I was the princess of the peasants that were controlled by the royal family.

The paper of my Manticore registration was in my hand now, and because it was becoming sweaty, I neatly folded it up and shoved it in my back pocket, trying to ignore the quivering of my hand. Although I never wanted to think of myself as X10-415, I felt that the paper held some sort of unnamed power for me. Finally, as I lifted my head to look at James, I asked, after decades of silence, "Do you know where your father took my parents?"

He sighed, averting his eyes from mine. "Wyoming, most likely. They're far too valuable of a commodity to take anywhere else."

"Do you know how to get there?" I questioned as I zipped up the front of my jacket that had somehow come undone between the time I burst through the window back at my apartment and that moment. 

"Sure, I've been there enough. But, I don't have the money to buy a plane ticket to get us there, and we don't have the time to ride your motorcycle there either."

"Yeah," I replied, then turned away from him, so that my hand rested on the doorknob, "that's why we need to make a quick pit-stop before heading out to Wyoming." With that, I opened the door and headed down to my bike, leaving James no choice but to follow me. After all, if his father ever found out that he had let the precious X10-415 escape, James would be executed on sight.

It seemed as though, despite the fact that I could barely touch James' bare skin without trembling, we had come together somehow-only to be cruelly ripped apart by some unnamed fiend. Yes, his father was from Manticore, and my parents were too. And, we already had both admitted who were truly were, and, I suppose, that was what counted. I'd heard many a time that after couples come clean with each other, there is a time when their love is reborn again because of that trust. If this was true, I knew that our love had indeed been reborn, only to be crushed under Lydecker's foot. So, in truth, we weren't any closer then than before we had began.

Upon arriving at my destination, where giant buildings loomed against the limelight of the city, I didn't even bother to knock on the door of the penthouse, feeling that politeness wasn't my solution at the moment. James followed me hesitantly inside, wearing the mask of an executioner who has been forced to kill their own child. His eyes were pale and bland, filled with more horror than there should have been in the son of Donald Lydecker. Yet, I would never accuse James of being anything but what he was; he had accepted the fact his heritage was destructive and intended to take full responsibility for his actions. Good or bad responsibility, I wasn't sure at the moment, but he would take responsibility nonetheless.

As James closed the rich door behind him inside the spacious room, there came a clattering from behind a crystal wall, and a voice called out, rather timid almost, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Logan," I responded, peeking around the corner to see him sitting in front of his computers-the few friends he had in the world, it seemed. I should have been surprised that he was up so late, but, knowing him, he probably had some more work to do before heading off to bed.

Logan shook his head, muttering to himself something that sounded like, "Don't you people ever knock?", but I wasn't entirely sure because his head became reburied back in a mess of wires. Then, he paused, seeing that I wasn't going to speak first, and looked up at James and I standing behind him. James, though, kept a wise distance away from Logan, hiding in the shadows that night had brought.

"And, who, may I ask, are you?" he questioned, with a nod towards James, turning around in his swivel chair.

"This is James…but I need to ask you a favor," I replied almost too quickly.

"Who's 'he'?" Logan replied, as he put on the glasses that I come to associate with only Logan Cale so that he looked like the man I remembered.

"James," I repeated, confused as to what Logan was getting at. "Logan, I-"

"Yes, Alanza, I understand that that's his _name_, but I don't…what exactly is-"

"Mom and Dad have been kidnapped by Lydecker," I interrupted with direct authority, taking charge of my parents' lives. Then, with a heavier sigh, I whispered, "Along with Brin, Jace, Krit, and Syl."

Logan's hand froze in mid-air, suspended only by shock. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me, Logan." 

"And do I really want to know how this occurred?"

"My father kidnapped them," James said, finally speaking up for himself. His deep voice sounded alien next to Logan's, which I found rather funny at the moment, but figured it best not to laugh. Besides, I didn't think I could muster any humor out of my troubled body even if I had squeezed my skin in a vain attempt to do so.

"And who would your father be?" Logan asked. Then, as the pieces fell into place before his eyes, I saw his expression drop and smash on the tiled floor. "Oh my…"

"That's it?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow, and putting on false bravado. "'Oh my'? No wonderful words of wisdom from the infamous Logan Cale?" 

"Considering that my fiancée was just kidnapped by the very man that she has been running from all her life, no," he responded rather tartly. Swinging his legs back around to face his computers, he asked, "And, although I'm not sure I want the answer to this, I'll do so anyway: What's the favor I can do for you, Alanza?"

"I need four tickets to Wyoming as soon as possible."

"Four?" both James and Logan echoed at once.

"Yes. One for me, James, Case, and Max. I'm betting that James and I can't take down Manticore and save my parents. I'm going to need help from the only available X-series I can get for the time being."

"That I can do," Logan said and immediately went into his furious typing mode, talking as he went. "I'll have the tickets waiting for you guys at the Seattle airport, which'll fly you out to Cheyenne under the name of Guevara. You'll pick up the tickets, hop on the plane and that's that." As he was babbling along, I asked if I could use his phone. "Sure," he replied without even glancing up. "Just don't anger anybody by calling them so late at night."

Taking the cordless phone out to the living room, I walked past the couch where I had lain after giving Logan my blood-a time that seemed years ago. A time that seemed so innocent pure, but was indefinitely caught like a butterfly in a net. Lovely to look at, and lovely to hold, yet when you moved too close, it would break into a million scrambled pieces.

James stayed in the computer room, watching Logan, but he glanced over at me several times, as if checking to make sure that I was ok. The phone on the receiving end rang numerous times before a sleepy-mouthed person picked up.

"Hello?" they yawned, but I couldn't blame them for being tired because it was close to midnight.

"Case, is that you?"

"Yeah…Who is this?"  
"It's Alanza."

"Alanza? What's up?" In the background, I could hear Max's perky voice asking what was wrong with Alanza this time. The girl never tired, it seemed, no matter how late is was. She had probably downed a cup of coffee before going to bed and now it was kicking in.

"There's been a slight…all right, gigantic problem," I sighed, resting my elbows on the window frame that overlooked the cities. The glass, being colder than I was, fogged up from my body heat, and I smiled, remembering the name of Logan's home, "Foggle Towers".

"Which would be what?" Case questioned. I could hear him rolling out of bed in the background.

"Lydecker's kidnapped my parents, along with Krit, Syl, Jace, and Brin. We-James mostly-assumed that they've been taken back to Manticore in Wyoming."

There was a substantial pause, and for a moment, I thought that he had hung up on me. Finally, he spoke again, but his voice sounded far away and distant as if he had moved into a different room where the sound echoed. "Alanza, how much do you know?"  
"About what?"

"About…everything," Case responded, apparently trying not to give things away with Max possibly listening in.

"I know everything…James and I had a long talk-"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but, well, you know…"

"I understand, Case, but that's not the problem now, I need your help, and I need it bad."

"Anything."

"I want you and Max to go down to the Seattle airport as soon as you can. You'll find tickets there, waiting to take the four of us out to Cheyenne. You and Max need to get out to Wyoming with James and I because we have to take down Manticore. These tickets are under the name of 'Guevara', so you guys can pick up your two, then James and I will meet you on the plane in about twenty minutes-hopefully less. I know I'm asking a lot…"

"No," he insisted, "I made a promise to you, a long time ago, remember, Alanza?"

"I don't, no," I responded. After all, the night, at the pace it was going, was going to be revealing a lot more than past clandestine promises that Case intended to keep. And, I wasn't sure that I wanted to know what the secrets were that would be discovered.

"I told you when we first met-remember the campfire?-that if you ever wanted to get a hold of me or anything, I'd be there in a heartbeat. If things ever got crazy on you, that is. I knew that this was going to happen, and I'll help you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Case."  
"No problem." He paused again, before saying, "Look, I got to start getting ready and break the news to Max. I'll see you two at the airport-ok?"

"Ok," I responded, just as he hung up, leaving me with a dead, but moaning, receiver. I walked back out to the computer room, where Logan waited, watching me as I laid the phone back in its protective cradle.

"Four tickets to Wyoming at the airport-right?" I asked.

"Yes." He glanced over to James, then back at me. "Alanza, is there anything else I can do?"

"No," I said, shaking my head fervently. "Nothing more. I don't know if I'll ever be able to thank you enough as is." Then, turning to James, so that I would be able to give Logan a proper good-bye, I asked him if he would start heading on down to the bike. James apparently didn't agree with me, but went along rather reluctantly; I seemed to have developed some kind of new power over him that I was unaware of.

"Logan," I said, crouching down next to him so that we could be eye to eye, "I want you to pray for us. I don't know if you believe in God and all that, but pray to Ben's Blue Lady, if you must, because things aren't looking promising."

"Yes."

"I know I haven't been the friendliest person to you in the past, but I want you to understand that I was angry, and I would really like it if you could forgive me now…" I swallowed harshly, hating the words that I was about to say. "In case I don't come back."

"I forgive you," he responded with a curt nod.

"Thanks."

"Alanza?" he called as I rose to my feet, and he did the same. Stopping inside his opened doorway, I turned to face him, my burning hand left to rest on the cool doorknob.

"Yes?"

"You asked me for words of wisdom, and I can give them to you now."

"Anything…I'll take any help that I can get right now…please."

"Don't get too high of an opinion of yourself."

"What?"

"Alanza, you may be able to crack like lightning and carry many pawns in your palms, but despite that, you have to remember that you're still one apart, and a single mistake will bring the ultimate backslide."

Whispering, I nodded my head, "I know, Logan, I know…''


	101. Still Intact

Less than an hour later, I was riding on a plane, trying to ignore the queasy feeling that had settled in my squeamish stomach. Case was next to me, while James sat with the sleeping Max in the row ahead of us. None of us were up for talking much, but I didn't feel that I could trust James anymore for unexplainable reasons, and therefore I chose to stay with my cousin. 

The four of us were dressed in what I called "street clothes", with the exception of James. Not having enough time to change, he remained in his bloody silver shirt and black slacks, which, surprisingly didn't seem to bother him. Max wore a pair of low-rise blue jeans, a tight spandex magenta shirt with a denim jacket over it all, and Case, on the other hand, kept to his quiet self with brown, baggy, corduroy pants, a faded either blue or black sweater-I couldn't tell because of the poor lighting and the fact that his polyester coat covered up most of it. I wore a typical pair of black jeans, black shirt, and my faithful navy jacket that had followed me from California. All in all, none of us were dressed for hand to hand military combat, but it was definitely better than wearing formal gowns and high-heeled Cinderella slippers. 

My motorcycle remained in the cargo bed of the plane, which took some stiff convincing on my part to let it on board, and a couple of Logan's friends, Benjamin Franklin, didn't hurt either, I suppose. Still, the plan was that we were going to arrive in Wyoming, have James and I take the motorcycle-since he knew where the building was and I was the best equipped for fighting-and Case and Max would take a rental car that would be waiting for us at the airport.

James was lightly dozing, and Max was in such a deep sleep that the plane could have exploded, and she'd still be snoozing as we floated down to the ocean, but Case and I-the ever vigilant children-remained wide awake. He was turned towards the window, fist over his mouth so that his thin, tinny breath hissed out between the cracks of his chapped knuckles. A mop of dark hair had fallen over his intense eyes, but he seemed not to notice nor care. 

"Case?" I asked, longing for some real human conversation instead of terrifying answers and cryptic cyberjournalist conversations.

"Hmm?" 

"Have you ever been to Manticore?"  
Slowly, he turned to look at me, his eyes sad and gray. "I was kidnapped by them, so, yes, I've been there."

"Sorry," I whispered, hating how I had forgotten his capture by Lydecker.

"Don't be. But, if you want to know what it's like, I can tell you that much. I was there for just two days, which, under the circumstances seemed like years. I don't remember all that much of it, considering I was in pure and utter shock for the time being, and therefore, my brain obviously chose to opt out that part in my memory bank. I studied the effect of shock onto the human body in college-irony, once again at its best-which is how I know that I'll be unable to remember my experience there completely. Anyhow, they-the soldiers-put me in this dark cell with a bed that was…that was…I don't quite recall, but I know that it was hard and it hurt. Not that I used the bed very much anyhow. Believe me, when you suddenly get thrown in some strange environment, with no knowledge of what you're doing there, it can hurt."

"I thought that Dad told you about Manticore."

"He did. But, I didn't know that the dark, cold room I was in at the time was Manticore. Anyhow, all I remember about my visit to Gillette was that it was very melancholy, and, when all was quiet at night-after the regular soldiers had fallen asleep-I could hear faint screams coming from the basement. Monster screams-"

"Monsters in the basement," I whispered, finishing for him. 

"Anomalies."

"Does Max know?"

"'Bout what?"

"Why we're going to Manticore, and what exactly it is, and that James isn't exactly the good guy he's been claiming to be."

Case sighed. "She knows enough about Manticore to understand the fact that Lydecker has our family. She knows what it is too-Jace must have filled her in when she first met you because I haven't said all that much to her. James…well…no. No, she doesn't know that he killed both her boyfriend and baby."

"I don't think she should ever have to find out."  
"I don't know, Alanza, maybe she does. After all, what makes her any different than the rest of us? James, if anybody, would be the oddball here-not her."

"Good point," I mumbled, feeling the onset of a tension headache as we approached the Wyoming airport. In the far distance, coming from the east, I could barely make out the sun, hesitantly peeking over the glistening horizon of snow and ice. Early winter had dropped a steep puddle of crystals upon the land, which, I realized was going to make travelling difficult. 

In front of me, James and Max were stirring, yawning heavily as they raised their arms above their tired heads. Case appeared oblivious to the entire scenario and began humming softly to himself, the tune of the ever faithful song that had followed me from California to camp to caviar and brandy during Dinner Date Number Four. 

"Well, Case," I began, turning towards him as Max and James faced him also. Suddenly, all the attention was focused onto Case, and he squirmed under the weight of it. 

"Well, what, Alanza?"  
"Has the world broken yet?"

He smiled sadly, remembering his prophetic words that he had given me during our first encounter. "Perhaps," he responded, then locked assiduous eyes with mine. "But, if you have to ask whether or not it's shattered, then it's probably not because when the world does break, letting everyone know who you really are, you'll know. You'll know because it'll be the worst pain you've ever felt in your entire life, and, if you haven't felt that amount of anguish and grief, then, luckily, your world is still intact."


	102. Escape No Longer

After exiting the plane and finding ourselves in whipping wind, James and I split from Case and Max to pick up our vehicles. We all agreed to meet up in front of the airport so we could then head out together and not leave anybody behind.

James and I waited in line for an excruciatingly long time to retrieve my motorcycle from the endless amount of clustered cargo, we figured it was for the best so that Case and Max could get a rental car from the place next door. I smartly kept my distance from James so that if he was planning to pull out a taser on me, I would be ready to smack him upside the head.

James stood next to me with his arms crossed as an airport official wheeled out my bike, eyeing it carefully. I watched him inspecting the bike, and slowly, he turned to face me; I was the first to look away, though. "Can that thing handle snow?" he asked me, waving a scarred hand in the direction of Ninja.

"Dunno," I replied, crouching down and checking my precious baby over for any signs of damage. "I've ridden it through the sands of California, so I wouldn't see why it won't handle snow."

"Snow's a little bit different than sand. Melts, which ruins the gears."

"Very true, but I trust this bike, so we should be ok." Pausing, I glanced up from my stooped position to James. "You going to be warm enough?" He was, after all, only wearing a thin satin shirt and a pair of fluttery pants, while I wore a heavy jacket, shirt, and blue jeans. 

"I'll be fine." His voice was colder than the snow outside, but I could sense that he was incredibly uncomfortable in the situation that we played in. 

"Well then, let's head out to find Case and Max so that we can get a move on." Shuddering as I stood up to my full height, I added, with the horrific truth of our predicament, "I don't want to be at Manticore any longer than I need to be."

We found Case and Max waiting for us in a sleek black Mitsubishi SUV, which looked eager to handle the ferocious snow that had fallen. "Ready?" Case asked, rolling down his window.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, handing my helmet to James so that he would at least be safe in case of an accident. After all, Case could drive the bike if I was injured, James, though, was the only one with the map to Manticore. And, with spinning and abominably screeching wheels, the four of us headed off to save our family.

James took me down swooping back-roads that caused my motorcycle to scream in pain, and Case to shift into four-wheel drive with the car as the white thick ice built around our axles, only to be melted off soon enough. I managed to jump some of the drifts that had formed against the gravel roads, but Case simply gunned the engine and plowed right through. Personally, I was afraid that the car would get stuck, leaving the four us on my bike, which would result in a very tight squeeze. And, as much as I loved my Manticore family-Case and Max-sharing my motorcycle was not a thing I intended to do. Still, somehow, Case managed to go right through the snow like it was nothing but regular air. 

Finally, James told me to turn down a narrow trail and cut the engine. Case, who was behind me, did the same. I left the motorcycle in some hidden trees, while Case and Max clambered out of the vehicle, both shivering in the freezing ice. Slowly, the four of us-James leading the way-pushed through the dead foliage, until we reached a peaked clearing where I saw the monstrous building. Our breath fell out onto the ground in huge puddles of condensation, and my skin had prickled to a harsh degree, with my fingers having surpassed the tingly cold sensation, which meant that they were numb. Yet, none of the frigidity mattered as we gaped at the large building. James, though, stood apart from us, hands shoved in his pockets, indifferent to the scene that laid before us. His chin was raised high as if he still felt that he had to indefinitely prove himself, and only a trickle of air came out of his nasal cavity because his lips were puckered together in distant rage. 

A huge monster of a building laid before us at the bottom of the snowy hill, outlined by chain-link fence that still stood tall against the billowing snow. Separate square windows dotted the skin of the structure, some lit and some dead in the early morning hours, while thin, scraggly pine trees caught the light from the construction and vomited it onto the glistening snow on the ground. Had I not known what the true purpose of this place was, I would have found it possibly a rather serene picture of wintertime. But, knowing that people had died inside, I felt some unknown anger bubble inside me, and I knew that Dad was with me-assisting me with the mission he had trained me for all his life. His watch on my wrist read 3:45 in the morning.

For a moment, we said nothing, taking in the intensity of what was presented to us. Finally, though, James, shifting uneasily in the metallic snow spoke in a gravelly voice, "I'll take you down to the main door, say that you're student doctors who are looking into the genetic engineering field. I have my card on me, and they'll let us in, no problem."

"You sure?" I asked, turning to face him.

"As sure as I'm going to be right now, yes. Besides, our only other option is jumping over the fence which none of us-but you-have the abilities to do. The X7s will be all over us and that'll be that. You ready then, guys?"

"I believe that's a rhetorical question," Case whispered, and off we went nonetheless.

At the main door, we were greeted by a harsh looking guard who eyed us over carefully. His gun was resting comfortably across his broad arms, and I had the sensation that this man would not hesitate to kill me. "Hold on," he said, holding out a stiff hand that was covered in a black glove. "What do you want?"

Immediately, James went into the best acting performance I had ever seen. All the sadness, hatred, and just pure emotional pain was wiped away to reveal a man who was the perfected picture of professional dignity, (the guard, though, was unable to see James' ruined clothes in the pale lighting). 

Quickly, James pulled out a laminated card-identification, most likely-and flashed it at the guard. "James Lydecker, sir, permission to enter requested. I have with me here, the daughter of the late Elizabeth Renfro, Caroline," he said with a gesture towards me, "who would like to see her mother's fine work, along with Dr. Chad Webster who is interested in the Manticore technology-from Fort Xavier, and Dr. Vertes' daughter as well, Madeline. They will be with me at all times, and will not disrupt any of the standing Manticore facilities or technology." He didn't even blink during the entire time, reciting his lines like a veteran actor. 

The guard paused, then nodded, opening the gate to let us in. "All right, Lydecker, sir, you can go in."

For a moment, I thought that Lydecker was behind us, which panicked me, but then I realized that James was the Lydecker the guard was talking about. My stomach heaved and I clutched it, trying not to vomit into the perfected snow crystals. Nightmares had longer fingers than I preferred, and with them, they were reaching down my throat.

We entered the hollow building, and I had to squint my eyes to adjust to the harsh, artificial light that drowned the waxed floors in death and lies. I walked on the right side of James, head held high, while trying to force myself to breathe. My lungs-along with every other muscle in my body-had involuntarily cramped up due to anxiety and nervousness. I feared that if I didn't calm myself down, I would go into a terrible seizure, which was not what I needed with the true Lydecker-Donald Michael, that is-in the same building.

The hallway we were walking down was long and narrow with little space to move. A rough estimate on my part guessed the corridor to be no more than five feet across, but at least fifty long. Iron doors that reminded me of the principal's door back in high school littered the starched walls, with each door containing a single wire filled window in which shadows hid. 

Just as we had gotten halfway down the hall, and my breathing had become the only noise I could hear, the old Lydecker came out of a mysterious hallway that I hadn't noticed before. Secretly, I wondered if I wasn't supposed to notice. 

James froze dead in his tracks, holding out a protective arm to prevent me from moving any further, then let it cross over his chest, accompanied by his other silver appendage. Behind me, Case stood, and I could, for the first time, sense how ungodly terrified he really was. The waves of fear rolled off of him, making puddles around my knocking knees, while my own stomach oozed like strawberry jelly. Yet, I tried to focus on getting Mom and Dad out, convincing myself that that was all that mattered.

Lydecker pursed his lips and slowly began to walk towards us, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. "Hello, James," he said very blandly, and I caught Max's instinctive flinch out of the corner of my eye.

"Dad," James stated. 

"I'm guessing that these aren't the colleagues you claimed them to be. Renfro? Vertes? Webster? Not quite, son."

"Where are the X5s?"  
"The ones that were recently captured?" Lydecker asked, eyeing the remaining three of us over. He recognized what we were, and wanted to make sure that we knew that he knew.

"Yes. 599, 452, 734, 711, 701, and 798-"

"You sure have been doing your homework, haven't you?"

James bit down on his jaw hard enough for me to see his cheek twitch voluntarily. Then, with clenched teeth, he began, "I-"

"That's not important right now, James." Lydecker strode close enough to me that I could Mom's stupid pasty lipstick that I wanted to see more than anything. Raising my head higher, I instinctively sucked in my breath, meeting his aged eyes that no longer seemed dazed and confused. "What is important that I have finally realized what you want out of life."

"Which is what?" James asked, narrowing his eyes to dangerous dark daggers.

"The family business, of course," Lydecker sneered.

"No…" James whispered, but it came out as a narrow hiss as he blanched to a terrible shade of ghostly white.

Lydecker smiled a feral grin and began to turn his back on us. "Oh yes, dear boy, you helped me in more ways than you could possibly realize." And with one snap of his callused fingers, everything exploded.

Out of every single door that surrounded us, men suited in black uniforms collapsed down upon the three of us, while James was dragged away, screaming. Two men had him by his legs and were towing him across the floor. Smacking one in the face, he twisted out of their grasp and clambered to his feet, shoes slipping on the waxed floors, before grabbing Lydecker around the neck as if in a giant bear hug, then rolling with him to the ground. I barely had time to catch everything because the knowledge that I was fighting against the deadly X7s overwhelmed me when I caught a glimpse of a barcode, but suddenly, there was a sickening popping noise. James was abruptly on the ground, wind knocked out of him and unconscious, as a severe looking soldier stood above him.

Max was down, forced to her knees before I even had time to fully contemplate the fact that we had been ambushed. After all, she had never been one for fighting, and I could do nothing to help her for the time being. Yet, I still cried out her name-and she mine-even as the recruits slammed her body against the wall so that she would speak no more.

On the other hand, Case was fighting as best as he could, which, under the circumstances we had been placed in, was pretty good. After all, none of us had had any military training-not including Dad's lectures when I was young-and we went only by primal instinct. Nonetheless, Case was biting and punching, pushing his way through the crowd of black ants that had covered him like a piece of apple pie on a picnic day. His voice was one, long, harsh bellow over and over again. Sanity was no longer in his grasp as words-animalistic sounds of terror and pain-came to his lips, releasing with it sounds that chilled me through the bone. Case was like a dog that had just been shot in the side-alive and still conscious, but in so much pain it might as well be dead. Finally, one of the larger male soldiers clutched him by the neck and held my cousin above the ground, letting his little legs swing frantically. Slowly, as he lost air, Case's eyes rolled upward in his skull before his body was dropped to the ground like limp spaghetti noodles.

And I, Alanza, refused to give up during this entire time as I fought onward with my friends leaving me. Screaming like a suicidal maniac, I jumped over the soldiers' heads, kicking them in the face with sharp daggers of my boots. Rolling, I tumbled to the ground on my haunches, prepared to do the worst battle imaginable. Two females came at me, and just as I jumped up to get out of their way, they followed suit and pushed me to the ground, pinning my arms and legs down. I bit and clawed like a rabid animal, until more Manticorians came that I could no longer move. Unfortunately, the hallway was too small for me to get any kind of useful leverage on them, which ultimately resulted in my capture. 

Finally, a smug Donald Lydecker approached me, looking down from above. "Well, you must be X10-415-"

"Never," I shot back, growling in the back of my throat.

"-and," he continued, "I would like to personally welcome you to Manticore." Suddenly, one of the X7s that reminded me faintly of a younger Mom, brought her large gun down and smashed me right between the eyes, sending me reeling. With that gesture, everything went to blackness as I heard the haunting words of Logan, for the backslide had smothered me in his feral grasp, and I could escape no longer.


End file.
